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VOL. VII, No. I

CONTENTS July, mi

COVER DBSIGN H. W. WBSSO

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it dawn tkrangk a pact.

The Doom
from Planet 4

By Jack Williamson

short, three long, three short,
the flashes winked from the
dark headland. Dan McNal-
ly, master and owner of the small
and ancient trading schooner, Vir-
ginia, caught the feeble flickering

■ m

\ : ■

1 ' jict ' 1

ypsiJl

ASTOUNDING STORIES

light from the island as be strode
across the foredeck. He stopped,
stared at the looming black line of
land beneath the tropical stars.
Again light flashed from a point of
rock far above the dim white line of
phosphorescent surf, spelling out the
signal of distress.

“Somebody bane callin' with a
flashlight, I t’ank,” the big Swede,
Larsen, rumbled from pie wheel.

Dan thought suddenly of reply.
He rushed into the charthouse, to re-
turn in a moment with a lighted lan-
tern and a copy of the Nautical
Almanac which would serve to hide
the flame between flashes. lie flashed
an answer.

Again the pale light flickered from
the dark mass of land, spelling
Words out rather slowly, as if the
sender were uncertain in bis knowl-
edge of Morse. Surprised as Dan had
been by the signal from an island
marked on the charts as uninhabited,
be was astonished at the message
that now came to him.

“You are in terrible danger,” he
read in the flashes. “Dreadful thing
here. Hurry away. Radio for war-
ships. I am — "

The winking light suddenly went
out. Dan strained his eyes to watch
the point where it had been, and a
few seconds later he saw a curious
thing. A darting, stabbing lance of
green fire flashed out- across the bar-
ren, rocky cliff, lighting it fleeting-
ly with pale green radiance. It leapt
out and was gone in an instant, leav-
ing the shoulder of the island dark
as before.

Dan watched for long minutes, but
he saw nothing more brilliant than
the pale gleam of phosphorescence
where the waves dashed against the
sheer granite wall of the island.

“What you t’ank?” Larsen broke
in upon him.

| -nAN started, then answered
U slowly. “I don’t know. First
I thought there most be a lunatic at

large. But that green light 1 1 didn’t
like it.”

He stared again at the looming
mass of the island. Davis Ialand is
one of.the innumerable tiny islets
that dot the South Pacific; merely
the summit of a dead volcano, pro-
jecting above the sea. Nominidly
claimed by Great Britain, it is
marked on the charts as uninhabited.

“Radio for warships, eh?” he mut-
tered. A wireless transmitter was
one of many modern innovations
that the Virginia did not boast. 8be
had been gathering copra and shdD
among the islands long before such
things came into common uae,
though Dan had invested his modest
savings in her only a year before.

“What would anyone want with
warships on Davis Island?’’ The
name roused a vague memory. “Da-
vis Island?” he repeated, staring in
concentration at the black sea. “Of
course 1” It came to him suddenly.
A newspaper article that he bad read
five years before, at about the time
he had abandoned college in the
middle of his junior year, to follow
the call of adventure.

The account had dealt with an
eclipse of the sun, visible only from
certain points on the Pacific. One
Dr. Hunter, under the auspices of a
Western university, had sailed with
his instruments and assistants to
Davis Island, to study the solar co-
rona during the few precious mo-
ments when the shadow covered the
sun, and to observe the displace-
ment of certain stars as a test of
Einstein's theory of relativity.

The reporter had interviewed the
party at San Francisco, on the eve
of sailing. There had been photo-'
graphs of the chartered vessel, of Dr.
Hunter and his instruments, and of
his daughter, Helen, who acted as
his secretary. She looked not at all
like a scientist, Dan recalled. In
fact, her face had seemed rather
pretty, even in the blurred news-
paper half-tone.

THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4

But the memory cast no light upon
the present puzzle. In the rambling
years that had led him to this spot
upon the old Virginia, he had lost
touch with the science that had in-
terested him during his college days.
He had heard nothing of the results
of the Hunter expedition. But this
island had been its destination.

H E turned decisively to the man
at the wheel. “Larsen, we’ll
stand well offshore till daylight,” he
said. “Then, unless we see some-
thing unusual, we can sail in and
land a boat to—"

The sentence was never finished.
Through the corner of his eye, Dan
saw a ray of green light darting to-
ward them from the island. A line
of green fire seemed to reach out
and strike him a physical blow.
Green flame flared around him, and
somehow he was hurled from the
bridge, clear of the rail and into the
sea.

His impression of the incident was
very confused. He seemed to have
struck the water with such force
that his breath was knocked out. He
struggled back to the surface,
strangling, and coughing the bitter
brine from his lungs. It was sev-
eral minutes before he was comfort-
ably treading water, and able to see
what had happened.

The old schooner was then a hun-
dred yards away, careening crazily,
and drifting aimlessly before the
light breeze. The strange gTeen fire
had vanished. Parts of the ship
apparently had been carried away or
disintegrated by the ray or the force
of wjiich it was a visible effect. The
mainmast was down, and was hang-
ing over the Bide in a tangle of rig-
ging.

Bright yellow flames were dancing
at a dozen points about the wreckage
on ' the listing deck. A grotesque
broken thing, queerly illuminated by
the growing fires, was hanging over
the wheel — the body of Larsen. No

living thing was visible; and Dan,
after a second look at the wreck of
the bow, knew that he must be the
sole survivor of the catastrophe.

“Too bad about the boys,” he mut-
tered through teeth that chattered,
for the cold water had already
chilled him. “And poor old Larsen.”
He thought again of the warning
flashed from the shore. “Guess there
must be something hellish afoot
after all,” he muttered again. “The
flicker of green that stopped the sig-
nals, and the green fire that got us —
what can they mean?” He looked
toward the looming black shadow of
the island, and began divesting him-
self of his clinging, sodden gar-
ments. “I don’t wonder somebody
wanted battleships. But even a bat-
tleship, if that green ray hit it — ”
He drew a deep breath and ducked
his head while he unlaced his shoes
and kicked out of them. Then, with
a final look at the burning wreck of
the Virginia, he tore off the last bit
of his underclothing and swam for
the shore in an easy crawl.

T HE rocky ramparts of^^avis
Island were three or four miles
away. But there was no wind; the
black sea was calm save for a long,
hardly perceptible swell. A strong
swimmer and in superb condition,
Dan felt no anxiety about being able
to make the distance. There was
danger, however, that a shark would
run across him, or that he could not
find a landing place upon the rocky
shore.

Four bells had rung when he had
seen the first flash; it had been just
ten o’clock. And it was some four
hours later that Dan touched bot-
tom and waded wearily up a bit of
smooth hard beach, through palely
glittering phosphorescent foam.

He rubbed the brine from his tired
limbs, and sat down for a time, in
a spot where a fallen boulder shel-
tered his naked body from the cool
morning wind. In a few momenta

ASTOUNDING STORIES

be row, flexed his muscles and
peered through the starlit darkness
for a way up the cliff behind the
beach. He found it impossible to
distinguish anything.

“Got to keep moving, or find some
clothes,” he muttered. “And I may
stumble onto what made the green
light. Darn lucky I’ve been so far,
anyhow. Larsen and the others—
but I shan’t think of them. Wonder
who was flashing the signals from
the island. And did the green fire
get him?"

He turned to look out over the
black plain of the sea. Par out, the
Virginia lay low in the water, a pil-
lar of yellow flame risiflg from her
hull. As he watched, the flame
flickered and vanished: the old
schooner, he supposed, had sunk.
Then he noticed a pale glow come
into being among the stars on the
eastern horizon.

^ “Hello,” he muttered again. “So
we’re going to have a moon? In the
last quarter, but still it ought to
light me up from this beach."

A moment later the horns of the
crescent had come above the black
rim of the sea. Dan waited, 'Swing,
ing his arms and tramping up and
down on the sand, until the silvery
moon had cleared the horizon and
illuminated the rugged face of the
cliff with pale white radiance.

He chose a path to the top of the
cliff and clambered up, emerging in
a jungle-like thicket of brush. Pick-
ing his way with the greatest cau-
tion, yet scratching his naked skin
most painfully, he made his way for
a few yards through the brush to a
point of vantage from which he
could look about.

He was, he perceived, in a narrow
valley or ravine, with rugged black
walls rising sheer on either side.
The silvery light of the crescent
moon fell upon the rank jungle that
covered the narrow floor of the can-
yon, which rose and dwindled as it
penetrated inland.

G AZING up the canyon, Dan
gasped in amazement at what he

saw.

Mars, the red planet, hung bright
and motionless, low in the western
sky, gleaming with deep bloody
radiance. Directly beneath it, bathed
in the white light of the moon, wns
a bare, rocky peak that seemed the
highest point of. the island. And
upon that highest pinnacle, that
chanced to be just below the ruddy
star, was an astounding machine.

Three slender towers, of a white
metal that gleamed in the moonlight
with the silvery luster of aluminum,
rose from the rocky peak. They sup-
ported, in a horizontal position, an
enormous metal ring. It must be,
Dan reckoned swiftly, at least a hun-
dred feet in diameter, and held a
hundred feet above the summit of
the mountain.

The huge ring gleamed with a
strange purple radiance. A shim-
mering mist of red-violet light sur-
rounded it. An unknown force
seemed to throb within the mighty
ring, drawing the mantle of purple
haze about- it.

And suspended inside the ring
and below it was a long, slender
needle of dazzling white light. To
Dan, from where he stood in the can-
yon, it seemed a fine, sharp line,
though he knew it must be some kind
of pointer, luminous with the
strange force pulsing through it.

The strange needle wavered a lit-
tle, with quick, uncertain motions.
The brilliance of its light varied
oddly; it seemed to throb with a
queer, irregular rhythm.

And the gleaming needle pointed
straight at the planet Mars ! ,

Dan stood a long time, watching
the purple ring upon the silver tow-
ers, with the shining white needle
hanging below it. He stared at Mars,
glowing like a red and sinister eye
above the incredible mechanism.

His mind was in a wild storm of
wonder shot with fear. What was

THB DOOM PROM PLANET 4

the meaning of the gleaming ring
and- needle? What connection did
thia great device have with the sig-
nal of distress from the cliff, and
the green fire that had destroyed the
Virginia? And why did the glowing
needle point at Mars?

H E did not know when he first
began to hear the sound. For
a time it was merely part of the
strange mystery of the island, only
another element in the atmosphere of
fear and wonder that surrounded
him. Then it rose a little, and be
became suddenly sharply conscious
of it as an additional menace. The
sound waa not loud, but deep and
vibrant. A whir or hum, like that
of a powerful, muffled motor, but
deeper than the sound of any motor
man has ever made. It came down
the gorge, from the direction of the
machine on the mountain.

That deep, throbbing noise fright-
ened Dan as none of his previous
experiences had done. Shivering
from fear as much as from cold, he
crouched down beside a huge boulder
in the edge of the tangle of brush
that covered the bottom of the ra-
vine. His heart pounded wildly. He
was in the clutches of an unreason-
ing fear that some terrible Thing
had seen him, and was about to seek
him out. For a moment be had to
use all his will to keep himself from
panic flight through the brush. The
unknown is always terrible, and he
had invaded the domain of a force
he could not understand.

In a moment, however, he recov-
ered himself. He would be as safe
there in the jungle, he thought, as
anywhere on the island. He thought
of starting a fire, then realized that
he had no matches, and that he would
not dare to make a light if he were
able. He pulled a few handfuls of
dry grass to make a sort of bed, upon
which he huddled up, thanking bis
lucky stars that the island was in
semi-tropical latitudes.

His mind returned again to the
riddles that confronted him: the
green flash and the strange mechan-
ism on the peak. He recalled fan-
tastic stories he had read, of hermit
scientists conducting amazing ex-
periments in isolated parts of the
world. Presently he decided that
something of the kind must be on
foot here.

“The green flash is a sort of a
death ray,” he summed up, aloud.
“And they shoot it from that bright
needle. No wonder they don’t want
to be bothered) Somebody may be
fixing to upset civilization I

“But it’s queer that the needle
points at Mars. . . ."

Of this last fact, which might have
been a clue to the moat reasonable
solution of the mystery, if a rather
astounding one, he was able to make
nothing. In fact, huddled up on his
pile of grass in aonte degree of com-
fort, he presently went to sleep, still
pondering in vain upon this last
clue.

H E was awakened by a soft, in-
sistent purring sound, rather
like that of a small electric motor
run without load at very high speed.
Recollection of the night's events
came abruptly to him, and he sprang
to his feet in alarm, finding his
muscles sore and stiff from bis
cramped position.

From one side Dan heard the
rumble of thunder, and, glancing up.
saw that the sky above the sea was
overcast with a rolling mass of dark,
menacing clouds. There was a
strange portentous blackness about
these storm clouds that filled him
with a nameless fear.

Suddenly he was struck with the
thought that it was not thunder that
had wakened him. The noise he had
heard had not the rumbling or boom-
ing quality of thunder. As he stood
there he again became conscious of
the low, whirring sound, behind him.
He whirled around to face it. The

ASTOUNDING STORIES

shock of what he saw left him mo-
mentarily dizzy and trembling—
though undoubtedly his surround-
ings had much to do with its effect
upon him.

The sound came from a glistening
metal machine which stood half-hid-
den in the brush a dozen yards away
looking at him I '\

The thing was madei of a lustrous,
silvery metal, which Dan afterwards
supposed to be aluminum, or some
alloy of that metal. Its gleaming
case was shaped more like a coffin,
or an Egyptian mummy-case, tfian
any other object with which he was
familiar, though rather larger than
either.

That is, it was an oblong metal
box, tapering toward the ends, with
the greatest width forward of the
middle. Twin tubes projected from
the end of it, lenses in them glisten-
ing like eyes. Just below them sprang
out steely, glistening tentacles sev-
eral feet long, writhing and twitch-
ing as if they were alive. The tangle
of green brush hid the thing’s legs,
so that Dan could not see them.

S UDDENLY it sprang toward
him, rising ten feet high and
covering half the distance between
them. It alighted easily upon the
two long, jointed metal limbs upon
which it had leapt,- and continued
to keep the lens-tubes turned toward
Dan, so he knew that the grotesque
metal thing was watching him.

The limbs, he observed, were simi-
lar to the hind legs of a grasshopper,
both in shape and position. And evi-
dently the thing leapt upon them in
about the same way. Then he no-
ticed another curious thing about it.

Three little bars of metal projected
above the thickest part of its case,
on the upper side. Their ends were
joined by a little ring, three inches
across. The tiny metal ring glowed
with purple luminosity. A purple
haze seemed to cling about it, as to
the huge ring Dan had seen on the

towers above the peak. And sus-
pended inside this ring was a tiny
metal needle, shimmering with pul-
sating white fire.

On the back of this metal monster
was a miniature replica of the
strange mechanism upon the pin-
nacle. The little needle pointed up
the canyon. A glance that way
showed Dan that it pointed at the
great device upon the mountain,
which looked even more brilliant on
this gloomy morning than in the un-
certain radiance of the moon. The
colossal ring was shrouded in a
splendid mantle of purple flame ; and
the long, slender needle, which
seemed to have swung on down to
follow Mars below the horizon, still
throbbed with scintillating white
fire.

For several minutes the two stood
there, studying each other. A naked
man, tense and bewildered in tha
presence of mysterious forces — and
a grotesque machine, cased in gleam-
ing white metal, whose parts seemed
to duplicate most of the functions
of a living creature.

Then one of the writhing tentacles
that shot from the “head” of the
machine reached back under the
metal case, and reappeared grasping
what appeared to be a flat disk of
emerald, two inches across and half
an inch thick.

This green disk it held up, with a
flat side toward Dan. There was no
sound, but a flash of green light came
from it, cutting a wide swath into the
jungle, and littering its path with
smoking and flaming debris.

B UT Dan, expecting something
of the kind, had flung himself
sidewise into the shelter of the
boulder beside which he had slept.
Behind it, he gathered his feet un-
der him, picked up a rock of con-
venient size for throwing, and
waited, ready and alert.

He heard the soft humming sound
on the other side of the boulder. A

THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4

glittering object flashed abort him.
Crashing through the brush the
metal monster came to earth on the
same side of the boulder with him.

But the metal thing had not turned
in its flight: cons eq uently its rear
end was toward Dan. As it began
cumberously to turn about, he hurled
his rock with an accuracy that came
of a boyhood on the farm. Instinct
had made him try for the little ring
and needle on the back of the mon-
ster, apparently its most vulnerable
part

Whether by luck or skill, the rock
struck the gleaming ring, crushing
it against the needle — and instant
paralysis overtook the metal thing.
Its tentacles and limbs be c a m e fixed
and rigid, and it toppled over in the
brush.

Dan walked over to it, and exam-
ined it briefly. The green disk had
fallen on the ground, and be picked
it up. It, was made of emerald crys-
tal, it had a little knob of glistening
metal set in one side. Rather afraid
of it, Dan forebore to twist the knob.
But he still clutched it in his hand
a few moments later, when, partly
for fear that others of its kind would
come to succor the fallen monster,
and partly to secure shelter from the
threatening rain, he retired into the
shadows of the tangled jungle.

He spent perhaps half an hour in
creeping back to what he supposed
a place of comparative safety. For
some time he lay there in the cool
gloom, brushing occasional insects
off his bare skin, wishing by turns
that he had a cup of coffee and a
good beefsteak, and that he could
puzxle out a logical solution of all
the astounding things he had met in
the island. After the encounter with
the metal monster, he felt his theory
of the hermit scientists a bit inade-
quate.

P RESENTLY his attention was
attracted by the unmistakable
mew of a kitten. Then he heard the

padding sound of cautious human
footsteps, and a clear feminine voice
calling "Kitty, kitty,” in low tones.
The steps and the voice seemed coat-
ing toward him; since there was am
sound of crackling brush, be sup-
posed there was a trail which he had
not found. ‘

"Hello,” be ventured, when the
voice seemed only a few yards away
through the green tangle.

At the same instant a gray kitten
appeared out of the underbrush, and
frisked trustfully across to him. He
put out a band, caressed it, picked it
up. In a moment the feminine voice
replied, “Hello yourself. Who are
you?”

A crackling sound came from the
brush, as if the speaker were start-
ing toward him. Dan, abruptly con-
scious of bis lack of attire, said
quickly, “Wait a minute! I haven't
anything on, you see. I’m Dan Mc-
Nally. I owned the schooner that
something happened to off the island
last night.”

A delicious, trilling laugh greeted
the panic of his first words. Then
the clear, sweet voice, serious again,
replied, “So you swam ashore from
the boat I signaled?"

“Yes.”

“Gee, but I’m glad to find you!
And you say you haven’t any
clothes? 1 wonder what. . . .” The
voice paused reflectively, then re-
sumed, “Here's a sheet that I got to
signal with in the daytime, if I had
a chance. Y ou might wrap it around
you until we find something better.”

The low, liquid laugh rang out
again; again there was a rustling in
the brush, and presently an arm ap-
peared, holding a rolled-up sheet.

“All right,” he called “Throw it
this way.”

I N ■ moment, with the sheet
draped amend him like a Roman
toga, and the kitten on bta ana, he
advanced tn meet the owner of the
beautiful voice.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

At the trail he met a trim, active-
looking young woman, clad in out-
of-door attire and with a canvas
knapsack on her back. Bareheaded,
ahe wore her brown hair closely
shingled. Her face, Dan recognized
from the photograph he had seen
five years before, though it was more
lovely than the splotched newspaper
picture had hinted. liter brown eyes
were filled with laughter at his pre-
dicament and his present unusual
garb.

He bowed with mock gravity and
said, “How do you do. Miss Helen
Hunter?” "■

Brown eyes widened in surprise.
“You know me?” she asked.

“Not half so well as I hope to,”
he grinned.

Then, handing her the kitten, he
spoke seriously. “What about this
island? The green flashes? The big
machine on the mountain? The
metal thing that jumps about like
a grasshopper? What’s it all about?
You know anything about it?"

“Yes, I know a good deal about
it,” she told him soberly. “It’s rather
a terrible story. And one you may
not believe — no, you’ve seen them!
But the kitten is hungry, and you
must be, too, if you swam ashore."

“Well, yes, I am,” Dan admitted.

The storm clouds were drifting
out to sea; the sun was beginning to
assert itself, and it now lighted up
the scene with a cheerful brightness.
She slung off her pack and sat down
cross-legged at the side of the trail.
Dan sat down opposite her as she
opened the knapsack and produced a
can of condensed milk, one of sar-
dines, a can-opener, and half a loaf
of bread.

“I had to select my supplies rather
at random," she said, “and you’ll
have to make the best of them.”

She started to open the sardines.
“You’d better give it to me," Dan
advised. “You might cut your hand.”

“You think so?” she asked, deftly
lifting the lid, fishing out a fish for

the kitten, and presenting the can
to Dan. Then with capable hands
she broke off a large chunk of bread,
which she handed him.

“Go ahead and finish this up,” she
said. “I’ve already had breakfast.”
She punched two holes in the end of
the milk can, and poured some of the
thick yellow fluid into the palm of
her left hand, from which she let
the kitten lap it.

“And now for the mystery of the
island,” Dan demanded, forgetting
bread and sardines in his eagerness.

T HE girl turned her face to him.

“I’m Helen Hunter, as you
seem to know," she began. “I came
here with my father five years ago to
observe an eclipse of the sun. When
it was all over, and the ship called
to take us off, he decided to send the
results of our observations by one
of the other men. He'wanted to stay
here to carry on another experiment
—the one that led to that machine
on the hill. Part pi the other men
were willing to stay. The yacht left
us here, and has been back from San
Francisco every six months since,
with mail and supplies.”

“And what was the experiment?”
Dan demanded eagerly.

“Have you ever looked at Mars
through a good telescope?" she
countered. “Then you must have
seen the canals — straight dark lines
running from the white polar caps
to the equatorial zone. All scientists
did not agree as to what they were,
but nobody could suggest a natural
origin for them.

“My father was one of those who
thought that the canals were fertile,'
cultivated strips, irrigated with
water brought down from the melt-
ing ice-caps. Irrigation systems
meant intelligent life upon the
planet, and his experiment was an
attempt to communicate with that
intelligence.”

“And he succeeded?” Dan was
astounded.

THB DOOM FROM PLANET 4

“Yes. The means was simple
enough: other men had suggested it
years before, in fact. Any fairly
bright light on Mars — such as the
beam of a searchlight directed to-
ward earth — would be visible in a
good telescope, when the planet is
favorably situated : it follows that
such a light on earth should be vis-
ible to an observer with a similar
instrument on Mars.

“It was possible, of course, but un-
likely, that Mars would have intelli-
gent inhabitants still ignorant of
the telescope. It was also possible
that their senses would be different
from ours — that, if they saw at all,
it would be with a different part of
the spectrum. Father took the
chance. And he succeeded.

“The call was simple : merely three
flashes of light, repeated again and
again. We used a portable search-
light, mounted on a motor-truck,
such as is used in the army. The
three flashes meant that we were on
the third planet of the solar system.
The answering call, from the fourth
planet, should be four flashes, of
course.

“For three nights we kept signal-
ing. One of the men watched the
motor-generator, and I operated the
searchlight, swinging it on Mars and
off again, to make the flashes. Dad
kept his eye screwed to the tele-
scope. Nothing happened and he got
discouraged. I persuaded him to
keep on for another night, in case
they hadn't seen us at flrst ; or needed
more time to get their searchlight
ready.

“And on the fourth night poor
Dad came out of the observatory,
shouting that he had seen flour
flashes.”

D AN gasped, speechless with
astonishment. “Then that ma-
chine, with the needle pointing at
Mars, and the green flashes, and the
thing that jumped at me — ”

Helen waved a white hand for si-

lence. “Just keep cool a minute!
I'm coming to them.'

“The four flashes just began it.
In a few days Dad and the Martians
were communicating by a sort of
television process. He would mark
off a sheet of paper into squares,
blacken some of the squares to make
a picture or design, then have me
send a flash for each black square,
and miss an interval for each white
one, taking them in regular order.
The Martians seemed to catch on
pretty soon; in a few days Dad was
receiving pictures of the same sort.

“Rather a slow way of communi-
cation, perhaps. But it worked bet-
ter than one might think at first. In
a month Dad had received instruc-
tions for building a small machine
like that big one on the hill. It is
something like radio— at least it
operates with vibrations in the ether
—but it’s as much ahead of our radio
as an airplane is in advance of a fire-
balloon. I understand a good bit
about it, but I won't try to explain
it now.

“And in the next three years Dad
learned no end of things from the
people on Mars. One queer thing
about it was, that they never let us
see them on the television apparatus,
no matter how many of their scien-
tific secrets 4hey gave us. Dad and
I exhibited ourselves, but I don’t
know yet what the Martians look
like — though I have made a guess.

“By tlie end of the third year they
had showed Dad how to make one
of those metal things — ”

"Like that one that jumped at
me?” Dan broke in with a shudder.

“Yes. They seem almost alive; but
they are machines, -like our robots,
and controlled by the radio appa-
ratus. The eyes use photo-electric
cells, and relay what is before them
to the Master Intelligence.” The
girl spoke these last words in a low
tone, shrinking involuntarily. She
paused a moment, then shrugged and
continued.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

"The first machine did not obey my
father. It was controlled by signals
that came from Mars, over the big
station on the hill. And it went to
work, making more apparatus, build-
ing more machines, enlarging the re-
ceiving station. It worked in obedi-
ence to the Master Intelligence on
Mars!

“rjtHAT was a year ago. The

X last time the yacht called,
my father and the other men still
hoped to control the machines. They
let her go back without us. The
machines tolerated us a while; paid
no attention to us; they were busy
working mines and building huge,
strange things that'lnuBt be flying
machines; the plateau on the other
side of the peak is crowded with
them.

"For the machines are preparing
to leave the island! They are going
to conquer the world for-the Master
Intelligence on Mars!

“Months ago my father discovered
this, and realized that he had loosed
doom upon the earth. He and the
three other men planned to destroy
that big station on the peak. All the
signals to the machines are relayed
through that, from Mars. The ma-
chines seemed to pay no heed as they
made their preparations.

“Then one night, about three
weeks ago, they tried to dynamite
the station.” The girl’s shoulder
trembled ; she paused to brush a tear
from her eye, then went on hastily,
in a voice grown husky with emo-
tion. Dan felt an odd desire to take
her slight form in his arms and com-
fort her in her grief.

“The machines had seemed heed-
less, but they were ready. They had
those disks that throw the green fire:
we had not seen them before. And —
well, all four of them were killed.”

Dan handed her the disk of green
crystal he had taken from the thing
that had attacked him. She exam-
ined it silently, then went on.

“Dad had left me in bed, but I
heard an explosion. I think the
bombs went off when the green fire
struck them. I knew what had hap-
pened, and got out of the house just
before the machines arrived. They
wrecked the place with their green
flashes.

“And for the last three weeks I’ve
been hiding in the jungle, or watch-
ing for ships. Three times I’ve
raided the ruins of the house for
something to eat : fortunately it
didn’t burn, like your ship. And
that’s all, I suppose— except I’m aw-
fully glad that you got ashore.”

“Thanks," Dan said, earnestly.
“And what are we going to do now?"

“T DON’T know,” Helen answered

X in a troubled tone. “I’m afraid.
Afraid for all humanity. On the
television, I’ve seen enough of Mars
to be sure that it is a world of
machines, controlled by one Mas-
ter Intelligence. And even that may
be a machine. We make machines
that compute the tides and carry
out other computations that are al-
most beyond the power of the
human mind; why couldn’t a ma-
chine think?

“The Master Intelligence of Mars
plans to add the Earth to his domain.
Unless we can do something to stop
it, in a few years the world will be
overrun with gigantic robot-ma-
chines, controlled by force from
across the gulf of space. Humanity
cannot resist them. Imagine a bat-
tleship pitted against that green an-
nihilating ray, and all the other
science of an elder planet !

“Life is to be blotted out! The
Master Intelligence of Mars will
rule two worlds of mechanical mon-
sters !”

Dan sat in a dazed vision of hor-
ror to come, until Helen straight-
ened up as if shaking off a mantle of
fear, and smiled heroically, if a bit
wanly.

“Now you must eat your bread an<f

THE DOOM PROM PLANET 4

sardines, to give you strength to
fight (or humanity!" she cried, with
a laugh that she strived, not too suc-
cessfully, to make cheerful and gay.

Obediently, he began to eat, find-
ing an excellent appetite. . . .

It was several minutes later that
he fancied he beard a whirring and
crackling in the brush behind them.
He sprang to his feet in alarm.

“It can’t be far back to where I
left the machine,” he cried. “Do
you suppose there's danger that — ”
The mechanical ears of the metal
things may have picked up the sound
of his voice : but in any event, green
flame flashed about them on the in-
stant. Feeling a sudden protective
impulse, Dan started toward Helen.
That was his last recollection, before
what seemed a terrific concussion
swept him into the abyss of uncon-
sciousness. . . .

H IS first thought, when he
awakened, was of the girl.
But he was alone in the silence of
the canyon. He sat up, realizing that
many hours had passed, for the air
was growing cool again, and the sun
was low behind the peak at the head
of the ravine. The huge, mysterious
machine of the purple ring and the
vibrating white needle were blazing
splendidly.

He took more detailed stock of his
immediate surroundings. The tangle
of brush that had sheltered them had
been cut away by the green annihi-
lating ray. Charred stumps remained
to show where it had fired bushes
beyond the trail. His own shoulder
was blistered, a hole was burned in
the sheet wound about him, and the
hair was singed from the back of his
head.

Suddenly trembling with horror,
he looked about for anything to
show that Helen had perished by the
ray. Discovering nothing, he
breathed a sigh of relief.

“She must be still alive, anyhow,"
he muttered. “And I’ve bad another

lucky break! The ray was too high
to get me. They must have left me
for dead."

Presently he became conscious of
torturing thirst. He retired through
the brush, along the rocky wall of
the canyon. By sunset he came upon
a little natural basin in a rock, half
full of rain water. It was none too
dean, but he drank his fill of it, and
felt relief.

Looking up the canyon, he could
see the great mechanism on the peak,
gleaming in the dusk. Intensely-
glowing purple mist clung about the
great metal ring, and the slender,
delicate needle swung below it, still
vibrating, still throbbing with bril-
liant, white radiance. It pointed at
the red eye of Mars, which had just
winked into view.

Dan stared at it a long time.

“It all sodhtls crazy,” he muttered,
“but it isn’t iV The Master Intelli-
gence of Mars.'she said, is controll-
ing the mechanical things through
that ! The doom of the Earth is com-
ing through that white needle! If
only I could smash it, somehow!"

He looked down at the white folds
of the sheet that draped him, and
clenched his hands impotently. “No
gun! Not even a pocket-knife.
Nothing but my bare hands!" He
bit his lip.

S TILL he stared challengingly at
the gleaming mechanism on the
peak. An idea slowly took form in
his mind ; an exclamation abruptly
escaped him. Narrowly he eyed the
trussed girders of the silver towers
which supported the great ring, mut-
tering to himself.

“Yes, I can do it! If I don’t get
caught ! I can climb it, well enough.
The needle looks a bit frail. I
should be able to smash it! I’d like
to see Helen again, though.”

He gathered the sheet around him,
and began picking a cautious way up
the canyon, staying always in the
cover of boulders or brush. A few

A8TOUNDING STORIES

times he disturbed a rock, or snapped
a twig beneath hiB foot. Then he
waited out of sight for long minutes,
though he had no reason to believe
that the metal monsters were on the
alert for him.

"I’ve got to do it! The world de-
pends on it!” he kept saying again
and again in his mind.

The quick darkness of the tropics
had fallen almost before he started.
But he welcomed, the night, for, if
it made his own silent progress more
difficult, it reduced the hazard that
he would be discovered.

Gauging the time by the slow
wheeling of the diamond-like stars
across the velvet sk£, he thought
that two hours had passed when he
reached the head of the canyon. He
stood up cautiously to survey the
little plateau at the summit of the
hill.

It was several acres in extent,
quite level, and almost clear of vege-
tation. At the farther side was a
pile of wreckage, which, he sup-
posed, had been the quarters of Dr.
Hunter’s party, before they had been
destroyed.

Many huge machines stood about
the plateau, vast, dark masses loom-
ing in the starlight. Mostly they
were either not running or very si-
lent in operation; but a very deep,
vibrant humming sound came from
one near him. Smaller shapes were
moving about them, with long easy
leaps. These, he knew, were the
mechanical monsters, though it was
too dark to distinguish them.

B UT by far the most prominent
object upon the plateau was the
enormous, gleaming thing that Helen
had said was the station, over which
came the signals from the Master In-
telligence on Mars. One of its three
towers sprang up not far from where
he stood. The huge, refulgent ring,
swathed in its mist of purple fire,
was a lull hundred feet above him;
and the slender needle, pulsing with

white flame, swinging within and
below the colossal ring, was itself a
hundred feet in length.

The white needle, for all its
length, seemed hardly thicker than
a man's finger. It was mounted at
the top of a curiously complex and
delicate-looking device that spread
broadly out between the three tow-
ers, below the center of the huge
purple ring.

Dan looked at it and decided that
his plan had at least a chance of suc-
cess — though he had no hope that it
would not be fatal to him.

Quickly and silently he ran to the
base of the mighty silver towers
nearest him and began to climb the
side toward the- ravine, where the
maze of girders would hide him, at
least partially, from any watchers
back on the plateau. The starlight
and the faint weird radiance of the
purple ring above sufficed to guide
him.

The cross-braces on the girder he
had chosen were spaced closely
enough to serve as the rungs of a
ladder. Dan climbed easily, pausing
twice for breath, and to look down
at the dark plateau. The vast, hum-
ming machines loomed up strangely
in the pale purple light that fell from
the gleaming ring.

Once he looked across toward the
other side of the island. The surface
there was more level. He glimpsed
tiny moving lights, and huge sta-
tionary masses, apparently as large
as ocean liners. He had an impres-
sion of a vast amount of mechanical
activity, proceeding in the darkness
very rapidly, and in a silent and or-
derly fashion.

"The expeditionary force of the
Master Intelligence of Mars,” he
thought, “preparing to set out
against humanity I And what I can
do is the only chance to stop it!”

H E climbed again with renewed
energy. A. few yards more
brought him to the colossal meta 1

THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4

ring. Resting upon the three tow-
ers, it was a circular band of shin-
ing metal a foot thick and as wide
as a road. The intense purple glow
extended several feet from its sur-
face.

Dan touched it tentatively. He
felt a tingling electric shock. And
he thought he could feel a radiation
coming from it, giving him a curi-
ous sensation of cold. As he reached
his hands up and grasped the upper
edge of the great ring, he felt what
seemed a physical current of cold.

Controlling his tendency to shiver,
he climbed upon the last brace, and,
lifting his weight with his hands,
threw himself face down upon the
flat upper surface of the vast ring.
He lay bathed in cold purple fire.
He tingled with the ch : ll of it. A
frozen current seemed to penetrate
his body. Involuntarily he trembled,
lost his grip and dangled precari-
ously from the rim.

Only a frantic scrambling re-
stored his hold. Then, fighting the
sensation of freezing cold that came
from the mist of purple flame,- he
drew himself forward and got to his
feet upon the broad surface of the
metal ring. On both sides it curved
away like a circular track. Red-violet
fire shimmered about it, bathing him
to the waist in a chilling torrent.

Through coruscating frozen flame
he waded to the inner rim of the
colossal ring. Below him hung the
needle, a mere straight line of white
fire, a hundred feet in length. Eye-
dazzling radiance scintillated along
it, waxing and waning with a curious
throbbing rhythm. The needle vi-
brated a little, but it pointed directly
at the red point of Mars, now almost
directly overhead.

' Repressing a shudder, Dan looked
down at the complex and delicate ap-
paratus upon which the slender
needle was mounted. It was a light
frame of white metal bars, with
spidery coils and huge glowing tubes
-and flimsy spinning disks mounted

in it. The gleaming needle was
mounted much like a telescope at the
top of the device, fully fifty feet be-
low him.

"Looks flimsy enough,” Dan mut-
tered. “I’ll go through it like a six-
teen-inch shell! Who would have
thought I'd end this way!”

H E stepped back for a moment,
and stood on the polished
metal, hidden to the waist in cold
purple flame. Lest it impede his
movements, he tore the sheet from
him and threw it aside. He let his
eyes sweep for a last time over the
familiar constellations blazing so
splendidly in the black sky above.
He had a pang of heartache, as if the
stars were old friends. His glance
roved fondly over the dark, indis-
tinct masses of the island, and across
the black plain of the sea.

“Well, no good in waiting,” he
muttered again. “Sorry I can’t see
Helen. Hope she gets off all right.”
He backed to the outer rim and
drew a deep breath, like one about
to dive. ThenV with set face, he
sprinted forward. As he did so a
blinding flash of green light flick-
ered up before him. He ducked his
head and leapt from the inner edge
of the vast glowing ring.

For long seconds, it seemed, he
was plunging down through space,
feet first. Air rushed screaming
about his ears. But his mind was
quite calm, and registered an aston-
ishingly large series of impressions.

He saw the delicate, gleaming
machine rushing up to meet him, the
shimmering white needle swung on
its top.

He took in the silent, dark plateau,
with the masses of the great
machines rising like ominous shad-
ows here and there, and the mechair-
ical monsters leaping busily about
it, almost invisible in the dim,
ghostly radiance that fell from the
purple ring.

He saw a vivid flame of green

ASTOUNDING STORIES

reach up past him from somewhere
below. He knew, without emotion
or alarm, that he had been discov-
ered, and that it was too late for his
discoverers to stop him.

He found time, even, for a fleet-
ing thought of death. His mind
framed the question, “What will I
be in a moment from now?”

Then he had struck the great white
needle, and was crashing into the
delicate apparatus'below it. Waves
of pain beat upop his mind like
flashes of blinding light. But his
last mental image, as he passed into
oblivion, was a picture of Helen’s
face. Oddly, it was not her face as
he had last seen it, bu{ a reproduc-
tion of the old newspaper half-tone,
curiously retouched with life and
color.

T HERE is little more to tell. It
was some weeks later when Dan
came back out of a world of delirium
and dreams, to find himself lying on
bis back in a tent, very much ban-
daged. He was alone at the moment,
and at first could not recall that
tremendous last day of his conscious
life.

Then he heard a thrillingly famil-
iar feminine voice calling “Kitty,
kitty, kitty.’’ He tried to move, a
dull pain throbbed in his breast, and
a groan escaped him. In a moment
Helen appeared ; the gray kitten was
forgotten. She looked very anxious
and solicitous-^— and also, Dan

thought, very beautiful.

“No, no!” she cried. “You are
going to be all right ! Dad made me
learn a little elementary medicine be-
fore we came here, and I know. But
you mustn’t speak! Not for days
yet! I’ll have to guess what you
want. And you can wink when I
guess the right thing.

“Gee, but I'm glad you’ve come
to! You'll be as well as ever, pretty
soon. The kitten was lots of com-
fort. Still — ’’

Dan attempted to move. She

leaned over him, shifted his weight
and smoothed the sheet with strong,
capable hands. “You want to know
about what happened to the machine
mobsters?”

He winked.

“Well, you remember when they
found us, and shot the green ray at
us. They left you there — I thought
you were dead — and carried me up
here on the hill. Perhaps they
wanted me for a laboratory subject
to test the green ray on, or some-
thing of the kind. Anyhow, they
carried me into a big shed filled with
strange machines.

“They kept me there until that
night. Then, all of a sudden, they
all — stopped! They froze! They
were dead !

“The tentacles of the one that was ;
holding me were set about me. But
I worked free, and got out of the
shed. It took all night. And when
I came out, just at sunrise, I saw
that the purple fire was gone from
the great ring. The needle was
knocked down, and the apparatus
smashed.

"I found you there in the wreck-
age. You made a human bullet of
yourself to smash it! The greatest
thing a man ever did I”

T HOUGH normally rather mod-
est, Dan felt a glow of pride at
the honest admiration ringing in
her clear voice, and shining from her
warm brown eyes.

“So I gathered up what was left
of you,” she went on, “and tried to
put you back together again. A good
many bones were broken, and you
had more cuts and bruises than I
could mention; but the apparatus
had broken the force of the f all v and
you were still alive. You are remark-
ably well put together, I should say;
and unusually lucky, as well!

“And, well, the machines and ap-
paratus are scattered about all over
the island. Every one of them
stopped the instant you smashed the j

THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4

connection with the directing intel- comforting pressure of her hand on
ligence on Mars. There’ll be quite a his forehead, Dan reflected. Then
stir in the scientific world, I imagine, he winked.

in about three weeks, when the yacht “Something you want me to do?”

comes and carries us back with a lot He winked.

of plans and specimens. We must “When? Right now?”

send about a thousand engineers back No response.

here to study what we leave behind “After the yacht comes,”

us. He winked.

“And do you want anything else?” “What is it?” She looked him in
She bent over and watched his ban- the eye, blushed a little, and laughed,
daged face. Looking up into her “You mean — ”
bright eyes, thrilling to the cool, Dan winked.

IN THE NEXT ISSUE
BROOD OF THE DARK MOON

Beginning an Outstanding New
Novel — a Sequel to “ Dark Moon ” —

By Charles Willard Diffin

THE MIDGET FROM THE
ISLAND

The Story of a Machine-Made Midget
and His Fight Upward to Normal Size

By H. G. Winter

THE MOON WEED

A Story of a Strange New Earth Menace ,
Terrifying in the Speed with which
It Gathers Momentum

By Harl Vincent
— And Others l

The Hands
of Aten

A COMPLETE NOVELETTE

By H. C. Winter

Oat of the solid ice Craig hews
three long-frozen Egyptians — and
is at once caught up into amazing
adventure.

T HE sleek black monoplane
came scudding out of the
south, flying low over fields
of ice and snow that were
thawing slowly under the heat of the
arctic sun. After a long time it
wheeled, circled gradually, and then,
as if it had found what it had been
looking for, came lightly down and
skidded to a graceful halt in a low
flat area between some round-topped
hillocks. A fur-clad figure emerged
from the enclosed cockpit arlr1

climbed a low ridge into the wan
sunlight above.

For a while the man looked
around, getting his bearings. Miles
on every side stretched the great
rough plains of ice — ice that became
a broad path of glittering diamonds
where it led toward the low-hung
sun, far in the south. Perhaps a
quarter mile in that direction lay the
white rise of a hill much larger than
its fellows, probably, the man
thought, a volcano. Towards it he
laboriously made his way. His tiny
figure was only a speck on the far-
flung, deserted landscape — a human
mite, puny and futile against the
giant, hostile white waste.

The sky was clear and cloudless,
the sun unusually, warm. So warm,
indeed, that long clefts, caused by
the unequal expansion of the ice,
appeared here and there. The man
from the plane had not gone more
than fifty yards when he halted

The sharp roar of an explosion
thundered Ikron/h the Temple.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

ihii'ilji With * crack tike thnier,
a deft had opened at hie very feet
— a rift tea feet deep ta places, ap-
parently bet t o ml esa in .ethers, and
very long. Not wanting te go around
it, he slid down one side and, with
an ice pick, started to back a foot-
hold in the opposite bank.

It was then that the man saw the
thing — something 'Wicking from the
ice fust above his hrnd. As he stared
at it, amazement appeared on his
hraneed face. He looked around be-
wiideredly, then peered still more
closely into the bluish depths of the
crystal wail.

The head of a spear was jotting
from the ice. And the spear was held
by a man entrapped within the wall.

T HE details of the ice-held figure
were but slightly blurred, for it
was only a few feet from the sur-
face. It was that of a man, and it
was plain that he was not an Eskimo.
He was locked in a distorted posi-
tion. as if caaght unawares by a ter-
rific weight of eliding snow. And
he had been caught, seemingly, when
in the act of hurling his weapon.

For a long * 0 * the man from the
plane peered at his discovery. Then
his bine eyes followed slowly the
direction in which the epear was
pointing, and he gasped, and took
a few quick steps further down the
cleft. .There, in the opposite wall,
were two more bodies.

These, though, were of man and
woman. They were even closer to
the surface of the ice. Cro u c h ed over,
the man’s left band was craned ae
if to protect his c ompanio n from
some peril — from the 1 Mm Ijam that
had trapped them, it have

been. Or perhaps from the spear
of the other.

The fur -muffled figure stood mo-
tionless, gazing at thru His ice
pick was held limply, his eyes were
wide. Then, suddenly, the pick was
grasped firmly, and flakes of ice flew
under its level blows as he started to

carve his find from their froeen
tomb.

The man was trembling with wild
excitement when at last the stiff
form of the woman was extricated.
She was not so much a woman as a
girl, really — and she was beautiful.
But the man from the plnoe evi-
dently didn’t care so mnch about
that ; nor even her llmnst maramtons
state of preservation. He nfflbed
away some of the "g of ice from
her face, and stared most intently at
her forehead. Then he stood up-
right, and said, simply:

“Well, I’ll be damned!”

I F Wesley Craig had been merely
what he was listed as an the roster
of the Somers Arctic Expedition of
1933— that is, a geologist — he would
not have been so astounded. But his <
life work, really, «a archaeology.
He had spent yean delving in the
rains of ancient temples, especially
those of old Egypt. He knew the
ancient language as well as anyor. ;
knew it, and was familiar with every
known detail of the civilization ai
the Pharaohs. And, being so, he was
now properly confused. For every
hit of hie knowledge tald him that
this gill,, wham he had found in the
wastes of the arctic, was of Egyptian
stock.

A cer tain tiny hiwpnglfph traced

v e ry cat of the f ro ze n robe she won
— E gy p tian , every one of them!

Yet, stAbornly, Wesley Ctaig
wouldn't admit it. Not until he had
cat the two men fr o m the ice and
hauled all three laboriously ap {he
side of the cleft aad stretded them

out on the level ice, did he have ta.
He couldn’t deny it, then. In eome
mymeriaas way. Egypt was con-
nected with the three rigid bodies.

ness and sword-sheaths were indis-

putably of Egyptian design.

THE HANDS OF ATEN

There, however, the similarity be-
tween the two ended. The one with
the spear was big-muscled and burly ;
the other much Blighter of build.
This latter, Craig guessed, had been
fleeing with the girl when icy death
had overwhelmed them.

B UT he did not then try to go
into that, the story that some
sudden cataclysm had cut short. His
fervor, as an Egyptologist, was afire.
He was burning with eagerness to
get these bodies back to the main
base of the Somers Expedition, some
three hundred miles south. Into the
learned circles of Egyptology, of
archaeology, they’d throw a bomb-
shell that would make nitroglycerine
seem like weak tea.

Craig couldn’t taxi his plane
closer; he would have to carry them
to it; and to do this he began to
carefully massage all the larger
pieces of ice from the girl’s limbs
and clothing, to make her lighter.
At the Somers base they could all
be re-frozen, to maintain their per-
fect preservation.

It was while he .was diligently
rubbing that he fully realized the
girl’s beauty. Delicate, cleanly cut
features; fine, large eyelids; tiny,
slender hands. Save for her icy pal-
lor, she might almost have been
merely asleep as she lay on the snow.

Wes Craig finished massaging the
girl and then went on and did the'
same for the two warriors. For an
hour he carefully and reverently re-
leased them from the reluctant fin-
gers of their icy death, and he was
a little tired from his exertions and
his great excitement when at laBt he
finished and stood erect, resting. But
he did not stand quiet for long. A
sudden gleam lit his eyes: a mad
idea had come to him.

“Won’t hurt to try!” he muttered
excitedly, and the next moment his
lithe figure was running over the
slippery ice bank to his airplane, out
of sight behind the nearby hillocks.

W ES CRAIG worked from a
sub-base on his sole expedi-
tions to chart the various mountains
and ranges in the islands off north-
east King Charles Land, within the
Arctic Circle. He had only one
partner, a mechanic, who stayed be-
hind on his shorter trips. And there-
fore all manner of emergency devices
were stowed in the cockpit of his
plane: a tiny folding tent, an amaz-
ingly light sled, a large store of
compressed food — and a large vial
of Kundrenaline and a hypodermic
needle.

Kundrenaline was still somewhat
of an unknown quantity in 1933.
Kund, the German, had developed it
but a year before. The fluid was
already standard beside the operating
tables of the world's most modern
hospitals, so valuable had its quali-
ties proven to be. It had actually
restored life after hours of death.
A complex mixture of concentrated
adrenaline and highly compressed
liquid food, it gave a tremendous
stimulation to the heart, at the same
time providing the body with energy
food to withstand the shock.

It was meant for emergency use
on the Somers Expedition. But Wes
Craig wasn’t going to use it for that.
He was going to use it for an ex-
periment — a crazy experiment, he
told himself. Fish — many forms of
life — withstand freezing in solid ice
without hurt. Human beings — ? It
wouldn’t hurt to try, anyway, his
mind kept repeating.

Fifteen minutes saw him back be-
side the rigid bodies, and kneeling
over the girl. The sun had warmed
her body somewhat, and the glisten-
ing rheum of frost had melted from
all three. Hardly breathing from his
suspense, Wes filled the needle’s
chamber full and plunged it into the
firm white flesh just above the girl’s
silent heart.

A short laugh came from him — an
ironic laugh. It seerrfed idiotic to
even think of restoring her to life,

ASTOUNDING STORIES

even if she bad been dead only a
week or so. It; was quite —

And then his thoughts stopped.
“My God !” he said suddenly.

For a tide of faintest color had
surged through the girl's wan cheeks.
And her slim figure had stirred per-
ceptibly on the Bheet of ice I
“By heaven, she’s coming to!"
Craig muttered unbelievingly.

P RESSING his s ear to her chest,
he detected a faint and labored
beating of her heart, stirring from
its cold sleep as the terrific stimula-
tion jolted it back to life. The girl’s
eyelids flickered; a tiny sigh escaped
her full lips. Craig took-off his heavy
parka and laid it over her. Trembling
with tremendous excitement, he tore
himself away from the miracle of re-
created life, and strode to the body
of the young man who was appar-
ently her partner.

Again he administered the Kun-
drenaline. Then he went to his first
discovery — the heavily built, power-
ful warrior whose spear had stuck
out of the ice. The hypodermic was
once more filled, and the fluid
plunged into his body. Even as a
faint moan came from the younger
man, the warrior’s heart started to
beat.

Perspiring, breathing quickly, vial
and needle still in his hands, Wes
stood off and surveyed the three.

The girl’s hands were moving fit-
fully; strange, racking gasps came
from her throat. The other two were
similarly affected. Almost frigh-
tened, held motionless by the weird-
ness of it, the American watched.

The heavily built warrior was toss-
ing in a series of convulsions. His
legs kicked out spasmodically, arms
jerked and clenched, and the hel-
meted head rolled from side to side.
Then the man lay still for as long
as a minute; but, just as Craig was
about to go to him, Mb legs tensed
once again, and, staggering drunk-
enly, he got to hiB feet.

He looked around wildly, but did
not see the dumbfounded Craig, for
his eyes fell on the figure of the
younger man. He too had risen,
swaying on weak legs. And the girl
was sitting up and staring at the
two of them.

A ND then, grotesquely, preluded
by a cry from the woman, the
tragedy which death had once cut
short was enacted out, there on the
rough sheet of ice and snow.

The man with the spear fixed his
eyes on the girl's young partner
.raised his weapon, leveled it un-
steadily, and tossed it weakly for-
ward. The pointed end clipped its
target and sent him reeling, with a
thin trickle of slow blood running
from his right shoulder. The gift
staggered to her feet and ran be-
tween the two. But the big mr-
rior’s hand swept her aside, and a
short sword leaped from its sheath
at his waist.

Wes was stupidly staring, unable
to move. The combatants were ut-
terly unconscious of him. The
younger one, painfully wounded,
drew his own sword and swayed for-
ward to meet his enemy.

The fight was grotesque. Both
were weak, unsteady. The short
swords, stabbed slowly, missing by
yards in their drunken course.
Hatred was on the big man’s dark
face, and a fierce lust for blood. It
was only when the weapons rla«K«H
loudly together that Craig came out
of his daze.

“Stop!” he yelled, jumping for-
ward. "Wait! Stop!”

All three turned and looked full
at him. And then death, which had
been banished for but a few minutes,
swooped swiftly once more on the
young man. While he stood peering,
bewildered, at Craig, the huge war-
rior steadied his blade and drove it
home through his unguarded chest.
The man slid over the edge of the
ice into the cleft below.

THE HANDS OF ATEN

The girl shrieked again and went
down to lus fallen figure, while the
victor waved hia bloody award aloft
with a shoot of triumph. Then, with-
out hesitation, he leaped at the
American.

Wes was taken wholly by surprise.
He dropped the vial of Kundreaaline
and the hypodermic, and he heard
them crash and break at his feet as
he fumbled for his automatic, in a
holster at his belt. Bat the warrior
was upon him. His crimsoned blade
swung high, gleamed do wn w ar d, and
smote Wesley Craig square on the
side of the head.

Lucky for him, the flat of the
sword had been used — but it was
enough. The American reeled under
the terrific swipe. He had a last
glimpse of two inflamed eyes, of a
savage, contorted face; then the
universal whiteness went black, and
be fell, and the whole incredible
scene passed from hia cuti a c i oae-
neas. . . .

J UST how long he had remained
unconscious, Wesley Craig had
no means of determining. His head
was hurting devilishly ; for a mome nt
he thought that his plane had
crashed, and that be was lying in
the wreckage. Then he tried to move
his hands, and found that be couldn’t.
They were bound. HU eyes opened.

He discovered that he was lying
flat on the ice, hands tied behind
hu buck. Somebody eras moaning
softly. It was the girl. She too was
tied. Wea tried to sit up; and a
hand graaped his shoulder tightly
and yanked him to his feet.

The big warrior who had felled
him, his bloody sword still in hand,
stared closely at the American, and
fingered his fur jacket curiously.
Presently he muttered a few words
in some strange tongue. When Craig
did not reply, he again spat out the
words, his dark brows bunching
malevolently. And <this time Wes
understood part of what he said.

He was speaking ancient Egyp-
tian!

That proved it. These three, who
but half an hour before were dead
and entombed in the ice, were
Egyptians. Trying to cope with
hia returning bewilderment, Craig
racked hu brains for remnants of the
difficult language, and finally said
laboriously :

“Who— who art thou?”

A torrent of words broke from the
warrior. Only a few were under-
standable.

“ Shahs Ir n Pharaoh Shabakol”
And he repeated Craig's question:
"Who art thou?"

The girl was sitting up now, and
peering at the American. Her eyes
were still tear-filled, for the dead
body of the young man was at her
side. She cried out a warning, and
Craig caught most of it.

“Be careful. Stranger! He will
alay thee as he slew Inaroal”

"Answer met Who art thoit?” re-
peated the warrior angrily. HU pa-
tieace was short ; he played with the
hilt of his sword.

“I come,” said Wesley Craig
slowly, groping for words, “from a
far country. I found the three at
you in thU ice— dead. I brought thee
back to life." _____ /

T HERE was an astounded silence.

Then the man who called himself
Shabako deliberately cuffed hU pris-
oner on the cheek. “Blasphemer I” he
roared. “To claim the powers of the
gods! Thou abalt die for that! Yea,
the ice entrapped me when I was
about to alay the guilty Ins ro e but
our mighty god Aten restored me to
life! Enough! The priests shall deal
with thee!”

He jerked the trembling girl to
Craig’s side, and with a prick of bus
s w ord in their backs made them go
forward. The American was too be-
wildered to think evenly.' Why, the
god Aten was the Sun God I — the di-
vinity Egypt worshipped five hun-

ASTOUNDING STORIES

dred B.C.t How bad these warm-
blooded people come to the far
north? Where did they live? And
what fate lay in store for him?

He felt none too optimistic about
his position. He knew that it would
be two weeks before Somers, at the
main base, would become alarmed at
his absence. Unless, of course, the
mechanic at the subcase tried to
beat his way back on foot, which
was only barely possible. . . . Then
he discovered that his automatic was
still in its holster; it was slapping
against his thighs; and he felt more
hopeful. — .

The girl trudged tiredly at his
side. Shabako was a few feet be-
hind, grumbling and urging his cap-
tives along.

“Where does he drive us?” Craig
asked softly. “What is thy name —
and why did he slay thy companion?”

Her frightened eyes slanted to-
wards his face. "To the Temple pf
the Sun God, Stranger,” she whis-
pered. “And there — ” She broke
off, to get control of the emotion
she was feeling.

“There — what?”

“The God’s awful hands! . . . Taia
is my name. I do not know how I
am once again alive, when a short
while ago I was dead — but it matters
not. I am a priestess of Aten, a vir-
gin of the Temple. Inaros, he — he
who lies behind— dared to love me.
But a few hours gone he committed
sacrilege, hiding in the Temple, so
he could watch me. Pharaoh Shabako
chanced on him, threatened death to
us and pursued us out here. And
then of a sudden, when Shabako was
hurling his spear, wfe were entrapped
. . . and died. . . .”

It was a strange story of forbidden
love, one that might have been en-
acted in age-old times beneath the
shadows of the pyramids. Craig be-
gan, “How did — ” but a harsh voice
cut his question short.

“Silence, infidel! Stir thy feet!
This ice cools my blood!”

T HE American’s plane, hidden
from view behind the hillock,
was left farther and farther in the
rear, and Wes was surprised to find
that he was being driven up the very
slopes of the ice-covered hill he had
come to investigate.

At the top, he saw that the hill was
a volcano, as he had guessed: There,
in the center, was a wide gaping hole
from which, in past ages, fiery
streams of lava and ashes had belched
forth. He was amazed to see that
rude steps had been hacked in one
side of the great cleft, and that they
led sharply downwards. A faint
warmth reached him, and he observed
that there was but little ice in the
crater cup, and none on the rocky
walls where the hewn steps led down.
It was here that these warm-blooded
people lived!

As soon as Taia reached the steps
she began to descend them, but Craig
wasn’t so docile. He told himself
that this was his last chance; once
below, surrounded by numbers, there
might be no opportunity to strike
for freedom. His eyes narrowed as
he groped for a plan. If he could
butt his brawny captor, strike him
fairly in the solar plexus, and, while
he lay helpless, cut his bonds with
the sword. . . .

He whirled around. Reverting to
football tactics, he tensed his lean,
hard body and plunged squarely at
Shabako.

The Pharaoh was taken completely
by surprise, and went sprawling;
but the sword did not pitch from his
hand. He had received a stiff,
shrewd blow, but only a glancing
one, for he had twisted his body at
the last second. Now, sputtering
with wrath, he scrambled to his feet
and whipped back his blade for a kill-
ing slice at the American.

It was Taia who saved him, then.
In a flash she threw herself against
the sword arm and deflected the
sweep.

"Wait, O Pharaoh!” she cried

THE HANDS OF A*

breathlessly. “The priests will dam
this stranger ; ’tis they whs awt de-
cide bis fatal Do not kill him here f"
Shabaks’s face eras li rid with
wrath; rage choked him; bat he
paused. The girl’s aptly timed weeds
lad told. He was obviously not de-
cided as to what to do. There was
a pause, while the sword pointed
straight at Craig’s chest ; then, grum-
bling, the Egyptian let down his wea-
pon.

“But try no more of thy tricks,
dog I” he said harshly. “Else thy
death come before its time !**

Taia glanced appealingly at Wes.
Her eyes were half -fri ghten ed. Craig
smiled wryly. “Lead on!” he said.

Y EARS of time fell away with
each of their descending steps.
Egypt stirred under the dust of the
centuries ; Egypt lived again, though
in a sad mockery of her former glory.
It was like a descent into a new
world, yet a world that was, at the
same tune, as old as maa’s civiliza-
tion. . . .

Fifty or more steps they trudged
down, then came suddenly to two
dirk corridors, both of which slanted
steeply into the bowels of the earth.
The one they took was mystic with
deep shadows thrown by flaring oil
lamps, cunningly imbedded in the
walk of rock; and immediately into
Wes’s mind came the memory of a
corridor he had once walked through
in old Egypt, a corridor that pierced
to the heart of a pyramid and the
somber vault of a mummy who had
once been revered as the Pharaoh
Aknahton. In his nostrils now there
seemed to be that same, mwst y, age-
old smell; the same hushed gloom
was about him; his eyes saw dimly
on the walls the same rows of hiero-
glyphs telling of long-past d e e ds of
warriors and priests.

But there the similarity ended. In
Egypt it had been a dead P ha ra o h;
here, though even yet he could
hardly believe it, a living sue living

by grace of ineihi n science— walked
warily b eh in d him, and a living vir-
gin of the temple at his side. The
sword of the Pharaoh was pricking

his back.

The passageway they trudged
down became one of many. Others
angled from it frequently, all Amrk,
all hushed, all seemingly devoid of
people. The volcano— extinct,
almost surely, far the warmth was
only that of the earth — was honey-
combed with corridors. The mar-
velous ingenuity of the Egyptian
race had come into play in fashion-
ing this warm home in the barren
arctic wastes. But Craig’s ever-alert
eyes warned him of what wm to
come. The characters, the hiero-
glyphs, the rude forms of Egyptian
gods on the jagged walla were of
degenerate character — and always,
when degeneration sets in. the
cruellest form of worship has been
chosen. The worship of Aten, the
Sun God, Wm recalled, was one that
demanded human sacrifice. . . .

S TILL they went down. Savage
crevices, split in the days when
the volcano roared with fire and
gushing lava, mere skirted; crude
ladders reached down ever-recurring
pits, beneath which there was always
another corridor, and always leading
down. Craig conld not reckon the
depth they must be at ; he knew that
the heat uras growing, though, and
that his skin was wet with perspira-
tion beneath his furs. He started
to ask Taia the question that cease-
lessly tormented him — how her race
had come to the arctic; but a prick
from Shah&ko's sword silenced him.

Then the passageway they were ioj
widened. There was a bend jsat
ahead. Through the gloom came the
sonorous chant of many voices.

“The Templet" whispered Taia.
They turned the bend, and saw,
ahead, lit by a thick duster of oil
lamps which threw a broad swathe
of yellowish light, two tall columns

ASTOUNDING STORIES

of corrupt Egyptian design. They
framed the entrance to the Sun God’s
Temple. The full volume of a chant
of worship from inside poured
through then

Shabako's sword brooked no pause.
Jfe drove his prisoners straight
through. 'x

A host of impressions thronged
Wes’s bewildered eyes: a huge,
misty-dark room, columns lining i(
— the vague form of a great idol
squatting at the far end, massed
people bowed before it^— a weird
chant rising into murmuring echoes
along the high, dim ceiling. There
{were priests standing rigidly in front
of the idol, their hands stretched
high ; and every eye was upon them.
None saw the three in the doorway
until a roar split the drone of wor-
ship.

“Way! Way for thy Pharaoh, Sha-
bako the Fourth!”

S HABAKO had stepped for the
moment in front of his pris-
oners. His sword blade was waved
aloft; his bawl rudely interrupted
the ceremony. The chant stopped,
and silence fell as the priests
whirled around. The worshippers,
too, turned and stared at the man
who had broken the service with his
imperious command.

“Way!” the vibrant voice cried
again. “Aside for thy Pharoah, who
returns to the shrine of Aten, Father
of Life!”

Some sixty bewildered faces
peered at the man. The silence of
the buried Temple was solid, awe-
some. Through the mist of wreath-
ing incense-smoke and heavy shad-
ows the giant head of the idol stared
down, cruel in the coldness of the
rock it had been chiselled from.

But a pathway cleared in the thick
of the crowd, and, without a glance
to either side, Shabako’s proud figure
strode down it, driving his prisoners
before him.

Craig heard low gasps of astonish-

nient, glimpsed the people fall back
as he walked forward, saw the amaze-
ment in their eyes. The statue of
the god seemed to grow as he neared
he altar; it was in squatting pos-
ture, with hands outstretched, one
above the other. The American was
to learn the reason for that position
later. Now he had only a fleeting im-
pression of it, for a man stepped
from his ceremonial position beside
the god’s feet and met Shabako half-
way.

His face was thin and cunning,
with slanted rat’s eyes. Ornate head-
dress and stiffly inlaid robes denoted
him to be the High Priest. He held
a claw-like hand high.

“Hold !” he bade shrilly. “Who art
thou to come thus into the Temple,
calling thyself Shabako — Shabako,
who has been dead these twenty
years?”

T HE words weri a thunderbolt of
surprise, both to the Pharoah
and Taia, and to Wes Craig. Hq
could not see Shabako’s face, but he
saw his tall form pause, and his
tensed muscles relax. -

"Dead . . . these twenty years?”
the Egyptian at last repeated slowly,
struggling to overcome the shock.
“Why, ’twas but a few hours ago that
I left this Temple, in pursuit of — ”
He peered at the priest’s Sly face.
"Who art thou?” he demanded sud-
denly.

"Hrihor, High Priest of Aten.”
Craig heard the girl whisper some-
thing, inaudible because of her sur-
prise, but Shabako’s bewildered
voice cut in:

"Hrihor! It cannot be! Thou art
not Hrihor! When last I saw
Hrihor, he was an under-priest of
twenty. Ay was High Priest of the
Temple! Call him! Where is Ay?”
“Dust,” said the priest. “Dust
these ten years and more.”

Wes’s senses were reeling. The
bodies in the ice — he had taken it
for granted they had only lain there

THE HANDS OP ATEN

for days ; a week at most. That they
had been entrapped (or twenty years
was incredible. Had he known that,
he would not even have thought of
using the Kundrenaline. Twenty
. years ago he had been a boy of eight :
it meant — Lord ! — it meant the
youthful girl beside him was twice
her age; and Shabako an old man!
Old — yet young! Fantastic, unimag-
inable — yet true!

He saw Shabako pass a hand over
his face, as if his body were suddenly
tired; but the next moment it
tautened again and he swung around.
His face was unreadable. A multi-
tude of conflicting emotions strug-
gled there. He strode to a group of
several of the older men.

“Look at me!" he cried, facing
them squarely. “Look well at my
features! Am I not he who twenty
years ago — as the High Priest says
— pursued the priestess and her lover
into the land of ice? Am I not the
man who ruled thee ? Am I not Sha-
bako ? Is this not the priestess,
Taia?”

They stared at him. Remembrance
suddenly gleamed on their faces. A
thin, cracked voice shrilled:

“Yea! Thou art Shabako! Thou
art Shabako as he was twenty years
ago— old, yet without the lines of
age on thy brow! And the priestess
— well do I remember her. That is
she I”

A hand pointed at the trembling
girl; all eyes centered on her. The
High Priest’s mouth dropped open,
and he believed.

T HEN Shabako breathed deeply,
drew himself up and with kingly
dignity faced the ranks of his people,
sword Bgain held imperiously aloft.

“Thou hast seen!” he cried. “Thou
hast heard! Here is the guilty Taia
— and here am I, returned to thee,
still with the strength of my prime!
As I was about to slay the rash
Inaros, the ice entrapped us, and for
twenty years we lay thus, while my

spirit pursued those two guilty ones
across the River of Death. Then
Aten aided me, filled my veins with
His holy fire and melted the ice from
our bodies. We lived and breathed
again. With His divine help I slew
Inaros and brought the transgressing
virgin back to the Temple. Twenty
years have passed — but of years Aten
thinks nothing. Give praise to our
God!”

A breathless silence swallowed his
shout. Then a mighty roar burst
out, an exultant roa& that soared up
past the impassive image of the
god and rolled in thunderous echoes
along the roof. “Praise to Aten!
Praise to Aten!”

Wesley Craig smiled wryly. He
could hardly credit the Kundrena-
line’s power in wiping twenty years
away; but it was evidently true. Sha-
bako, he saw, really believed the su-
perstition-conceived story he had
just spun, so— now what?

The High Priest was staring at him
malevolently, hiB slanted eyes fas-
tened on his garb of furs. His weedy
voice pierced through the echoes.

“O divine Shabako,” he questioned
shrilly, “who is this stranger?”
The Pharaoh’s glance was con-
temptuous. “A blasphemer," he said
harshly. “One who dares claim — ”
But Wes had understood the ques-
tion. He stepped forward. Frankly
and simply, he told his story.

“I found thy ruler and the maid
and her lover in the ice, entrapped,"
he concluded. “I cut them out and,
with a fluid which is of common
knowledge in my country, restored
them to life. I told this to Shabako,
but he overpowered me and — ”

“Hear thou!” bawled the Pharaoh,
furiously breaking in. “Blasphemy!
He claims the might of the God!
Back, dog, lest I kill thee here my-
self!”

W ES saw how hopeless it was;

he shrugged and stepped
back. He read all too plainly the

ASTOUNDING STORIES

hatred in Shabaho’s eyes; his frank
story had also apparently inflamed
the High Priest against him. There
was not a friend in the whole
Temple, save the girl — and the next
moment Hrihor walked to her.

His slanted eyes ran over her fig-
ure. A sneering smile appeared.
“So!” he observed mockingly. “Taia
is returned to the Temple ! Yes, well
do I remember theemow — the scorn-
ful cast of thy mohth, the proud
bearing of thy head. Even Aten thou
were scornful of, I remember. Aten
remembers too!” He turned slightly.
“Listen, O Shabako. Three days
ago thy elected successor, Siptah,
died. We had met to choose a new
ruler. But, by the will of the God,
thou art returned and art again
Pharaoh. Thy people are grateful to
Aten. In twelve hours a sacrifice
shall proclaim our gratitude.” His
crafty eyes again swung to the girl.
"There !” he shrilled, “ — she pays for
her sin. She is the sacrifice!”

There was a great shout from the
crowd, but the words that Shabako
then cried savagely were plainly
audible to Wes Craig.

“Aye, Taia, O High Priest — and
the blasphemous stranger, too! Both
shall die in the hands of Aten!”

The priest nodded, smiling cruelly.
“ ’Tis well, Shabako. Both shall die!”

Taia's frightened eyes met Craig’s,
then lifted to the form of the idol.
He too peered up at it, and for the
first time its hideousness and the
cold-blooded cruelty of its design
struck him.

The rudely carved figure was a full
forty feet high. The impassive face,
horrible in the lifelessness of rock,
stared unseeingly down on its wor-
shippers. One gross black hand was
held some ten feet above the palm of
the other, and, inserted in its palm,
was a long, keen-pointed blade. The
living sacrifice would be tied to the
lower palm; the upper, by some
trickery, would be made to slowly
descend. . . .

A SURGE of panic swept over
Craig. In bis mind he saw the
slight, helpless form of the girl
strapped to that grim paw, saw the
knife inch down, saw it touch and
prick and finally drive through her
heart. And it would be the same
for him ! A flame of blind fury burst
in him, making him reckless ; mad.

“The hell we die!” he yelled, in
English, and with a great bound he
was at Taia’s side. A priest leaped
for him, but Craig shot a foot out
and sent him sprawling. Then, with
eyes flaming and legs outthrust, he
stood in front of the girl, facing the
worshippers.

“Fools I” he roared. “Listen to me !
My words are truthful ! I do not lie,
as does thy Pharaoh! I can prove
that which I say! I can — "

“Take him!” the High Priest
shrieked. “Forward! Take him!”
Craig could handle one or two, but
not a dozen. A mass of men. women,
soldiers, priests, swept at him. There
was a brief moment of struggle, of
oaths and shouts and excited yells
from the crowd in the Temple, till
something thudded into the Amer-
ican’s head and he went down. Feet
trampled him; men surged over him;
then blessed unconsciousness en-
wrapped him, and he know no more.

He did not hear, as did Taia, Sha-
bako’s command :

“To a chamber with them! Guard
them well, till the time of sacrifice!”

A SMALL party, led by the
stocky figure of the captain of
the Pharaoh’s (guard, wound its way
through a network of corridors, past
jagged walls T down which water
slowly drippep, across a swaying,
bridge of hides that spanned an aw-
ful chasm in the volcano’s very heart,
and came at last to a large dark hole
in the rock.

The captain turned. “In there I”
he commanded harshly. The two fig-
ures, man and girl, were dumped like
sacks of flour into the gloomy

THE HANDS OF ATEN

chamber. The men who had carried
them turned and tramped away; the
captain laced one who had stayed.

"Guard them with thy life, Sitah.
Thou knowest the payment for care-
lessness.”

Sitah nodded grimly. He was fully
armed, with spear and sword. He
sat down outside the dark hole, and
the captain retraced his steps. The
pad of his feet on the floor died away,
and then, for a long time, there was
silence.

Perhaps every five minutes Sitah
turned and stared down into the hole
behind, ears craned for the slightest
sound. But none came. The two
inside, no doubt, were asleep.

It was very hot, down in the deep-
buried corridor, and though Sitah
was accustomed to the heat, he soon
found his eyelids drooping and his
whole body crying out for sleep. But
he did' not go to sleep. He knew
too well what would befall him in
Aten’s hands if he did. He had seen
many old men and women die in
those hands, on ceremony days — old
people who croaked in helpless
agony as the keen knife blade
dropped slowly down toward them,
paiised a second, inches from their
hearts, and then plunged in with a
rush. Old men and women, useless,
their years of service gone. Yes, and
many unwanted girl children. . . .

That was what the Sun God de-
manded. His hands reached ever for
human bodies. It was cruel, but he
was a god ; and who was to question
the will of a god?

S ITAH was very glad when, after
six hours of lonely vigil, another
guard relieved him and took his
plape outside the dark hole. Sitah
•poke humorously to him, a grim
Usd of humor, as befitting one who
has seen much death.

“They sleep, Hapu," he said, nod-
ding into the prison. “Bat soon a
longer sleep will come for them —
the sleep of the knife I” He chuckled

as he made his way far below, to his
bed. A few hours of rest and he
would be in fine fettle for the cere-
mony.

The relieving guard grunted and
peered into the cell. He saw two
dark figures outstretched, mere blobs
of black, a little blacker than the
shadows. Yes, they slept. . . .

He sat down on the bench Sitah
had just vacated. He had four hours
to wait. Then the priests, led by
Hrihor, would come, and the cere-
mony would begin, and the god’s
hands would move together. It would
be a fine show! He looked forward
to it keenly. It would be delicious
to see that girl Taia bared to the
knife. It would please the god: sel-
dom did his hands hold such a beau-
tiful sacrifice. And the queer
stranger, too— he would probably die
very noisily. When he saw the
knife sliding down, he would regret
his blasphemy and shriek for for-
giveness I

For a long time Hapu sat quite mo-
tionless. He was a good watchdog.
Hours passed; his vigil was nearing
its end ; the priests would soon come.
Soon —

A slight noise came from the cell
behind him.

He whirled around. The noise
came again, louder. A voice cried
out.

“Water! Water! I am dying!”

Hapu grunted. It was the
stranger’s voice. The stranger must
not die; it would spoil the cere-
mony; Aten would be wroth. He
stared into the hole.

One of the figures was tossing,
writhing painfully. The agonized
cry echoed again. “Water! Please!
I am dying!"

Hapu strode into the cell.

For a moment he stood still, peer-
ing down at the tossing figure. His
brain suddenly shouted alarm. This
was no human body I “What — ” he
began.

But the question was never fin-

ASTOUNDING STORIES

ished. Something hard crashed into
the back of his skull; his spear
dropped with a clank, and he
slumped to the floor.

O UT of the shadows, behind, a
man emerged and bent down
over the outstretched, figure of the
guard. A smile appeared on the
man's lean face: the guard was out
—cold. It took Wes Craig just a
moment to ascertain this; then he
tiptoed over to a dark form that lay
on the floor — the girl, whose pale,
anxious face peered, up out of the
shadows. Craig cut/ her bonds with
the guard’s sword and raised her to
her feet. She stood close to him,
clinging to him, trembling, almost
not believing she was free.

Her eyes were filled -with awe as
she looked up into the American’s
eyes. “First thou didst restore me
to life,” she whispered, “and now
thou hast broken thy bonds. Surely,
thou must be a god!"

Wes smiled. “It was simple, Taia.
Look! This buckle on my^belt —
’tis sharp. I edged it round and cut
the rope. It was slow work, else we
would have been free long before.”
“But I saw thee toss and writhe
on the floor, and cry out for water!"

Craig kicked a pile of furs that
had been heaped one on top of the
other, and tied together with thread
from an unraveled woolen mitten.
“This was my body,” he said coolly.
“Furs. The cell must be a storeroom
for them — lucky for us. I was stand-
ing with a rock in my hand near the
door, when I cried out for water. . . .
We shall not die in Aten’s hands,
Taia! See — I have a sword. With
luck—”

There was a warmer quality than
reverence in Taia’s eyes when she
spoke — though she did not realize it.
“Then come quickly, O Stranger!”
she said. “The guard has been
changed once; the time for sacrifice
nears!”

Craig nodded. Only a sword was

in his hand ; his automatic, he found,
had been taken from him while he
lay unconscious in the Temple —
probably desired as a curious hea-
then object. The discovery, made
when he had cut his bonds, had been
a serious blow to his hopes: with a
sword, he was only a human being,
but with a gun he might have passed
as supernatural to this primitive
race.

But it could not be helped. He
peered to each side, gestured to the
girl, and together they started up the
sloping incline of the corridor.

T HE heat of the earth was great,
down where they were, and it
made the passageway muggy and
odorous. Fitful shadows were flung
by widely separated oil lamps as
they pressed forward — grotesque
splotches of black that half a dozen
times tightened the American's grasp
on his sword, sure that a guard had
come upon them. He knew that their
margin of time in which to effect
escape was small, and he gradually
quickened their pace, sacrificing cau-
tion for speed. Taia’s hand was in
his left; and he had just turned to
her to ask if they were taking the
best course up to the surface, when
suddenly she stopped short.

“Hearken!” she whispered, frigh-
tened.

Wes craned his ears. For a mo-
ment there was nothing but silence.
Then a faint sound trembleithrough
the shadows. It could only have been
that of many approaching footsteps.

“The priests !’’ Taia murmured,
tightening her grip on his hand.
“They come!”

There was a sharp bend in the cor-
ridor fifty feet ahead; from behind
it a growing clatter of sandals
echoed through the rock-walled pas-
sageway. Craig paused, irresolute.
“Are we blocked, ahead?" he asked.

“Yes,” her low voice hurriedly told
him. “But we can go back, cross the
bridge of the chasm and go up the

THE HANDS OF ATEN

other side. But others may be there,
and—”

A shout cut her words short. Dim
figures appeared around the bend in
the passage. They were discovered !

Wes Craig’s face set grimly; he
worked his hand into a good grip on
the sword handle, looked levelly at
the gathering crowd ahead and said :

“I think it best to face them now,
Taia. I can hold them for minutes
at least; thou canst perhaps escape.
Rest assured I shall take that High
Priest with me, when I cross thy
River of Death!"

“Butf where can I go?” cried the
girl. “Nay, Divine One — I shall stay
at thy side!”

T HE excited yells of Hrihor,
urging the others forward, came
plainly to their ears. Swords glit-
tered in the gloom of the corridor,
and like a foam-tipped wave that
slowly gathers speed the group of
priests and soldiers charged down on
the man and girl. Craig saw that
6hc would not run.

“Then come!” he shouted, and
swung. her around. With desperate
speed they retraced their steps. They
soon passed their cell, and recklessly
leaped through the deceptive shad-
ows on the far side, on down the cor-
ridor.

The High Priest and the others
followed close behind. His crafty
face was distorted with rage, and he
kept screaming to his men: “The
wrath of the Cod on thee if they es-
cape!" Craig’s ears caught that, and
he found time for a bitter smile. HI
If only they had left him his auto-
matic ! A few bullets flung into them
would even matters a trifle.

The corridor twisted and slanted
ever downward. They panted around
a corner and came to the brink of
a dark pit. “Down!" cried the girl.
She led the way, nimbly dropping
down the fifteen-foot rawhide ladder
that was there. Halfway down the
ladder Wes reached up with his

sword and cut it from where it was
fastened. He fell to the bottom of
the hole with a grunt. As he ex-
tricated himself from the ladder’s en-
tangling meshes he yelled up, “Come
and get us, you cutthroats — if you
can!” and was off after the lithe form
of the girl. f

B UT the action helped them but
little, and added only a few
feet to the distance between them
and their pursuers, for they boldly
made the deep drop without sending
for another ladder. Taia was Bob-
bing for air, and Wes himself be-
ginning to feel the bitter pang of
hopelessness when they rounded a
corner and came to a great chasm —
a wide cleft in the very heart of the
volcano. A terrific heat came from
its maw of unbroken black, and a pe-
culiar, choking odor, sulphurous.
Across it was a slender framework ol
hides and thongs — a mere catwalk
over the terrible depths below.

“You first!" Craig snapped, and as
Taia started across a spear came
hurtling from the mob behind, anf
clanked against the rocky wall on
the far side. Nimbly Taia sped over
the bridge, and Wes, the yells of
Hrihor and his men loud in his ears,
followed.

Midway a long spear snaked after
him. It missed by inches, and went
pitching into the gulf. In his haste
he caught his foot on the interlaced
thongs, stumbled and almost fell —
which saved his life, for another
spear streaked through the very spot
he had been a second before. Then
he was across, and his sword was
flashing in vicious hacks at one of
the two main supporting thongs of
the bridge.

The hide was tough, but Craig’s
strength was that of a desperate man,
and in several mighty strokes he sev-
ered it. The framework slumped to
one side, held only by one thongt
Hrihor, half across, croaked in sud-
den horror and sprang back as he

ASTOUNDING STORIES

saw the stranger raise his blade to
carve through the other support.
But, even as the sword swept down,
a spear streaked from a warrior’s
hand and thudded against Wes’s
right shoulder.

His sword jarred loose. It fell
into the chasm.

"Thou art hurt!” cried the girl.
Wes grinned wryly.

“Nay,” he said, “out weaponless.
Lead on!” ■'

T HEY were now on the other
side of the chasm in the tun-
neled volcano. The priests had hes-
itated a moment when the-bridge had
slackened; but now, seeing the wea-
ponless man and girl disappear in
a tortuous corridor ahead, they
sidled across the damaged catwalk
after their fierce leader.

“They will go past the Temple!”
Hrihor shrilled. “It is Taia who leads
him: again she tries to escape to
the land of ice! Follow — up here!”
His words were true. The cor-
ridor that led by the Temple was the
one which led to the only other pas-
sage up to the crater of the volcano.

But Taia had guided Craig only
a few steps past the place of wor-
ship, now a silent vault of impene-
trable blackness, when, turning a
corner, the American felt her shrink
back.

“Shabako comes!” she told him
faintly.

, Quickly he verified it. Led by the
Pharaoh himself, a party of soldiers
was coming down the corridor some
thirty yards away. Even as Wes
saw them, they saw him — and Sha-
bako’s roar of sudden alarm tingled
his ears.

Priests behind, soldiers and the
blood-lustful Pharaoh ahead. They
e cut off, blocked, trapped. There
no nearby branch passage to run
down; there was no way to turn. It
was the end of the game. . . But

no, not quite, Craig told himself
grimly. His sword was gone, but his

fists would tell on them before he
went down, before the paws of the
idol finally claimed him. . . .

He stepped before Taia, clenched
his fists, and waited the shock of
the charge.

H E could see the fury in Sha-
bako’s narrowed eyes, so close
were they, when a soft hand pulled
him back. It was Taia’s.

“Come !” she whispered, and
darted swiftly back to the gloomy,
shadow-filled entrance of the
Temple. And wondering, Wes Craig
followed.

She glided through the pillared
portal and was immediately swal-
lowed up by a shroud of silent, vel-
vety darkness. Wes could not see
her, but her soft hand touched his
arm lightly to guide him forward,
and he sensed the girl’s warm body
close to his. Where was she going?
Inevitably they would be trapped in
the far end of the Temple, beneath
the very hands of the idol— or so he
thought. But he trusted her, and
went on.

A shout came from the entrance.
“They went in here!” someone cried,
and the two heard Shabako detailing
swift instructions to his men — in-
structions which were cut short by
another clatter of feet and the ap-
proaching voice of Hrihor. Priests
and soldiers had joined, a confusion
of men, most of them hanging back,
half afraid to venture into the well
of blackness that was Aten’s abode
on earth.

But the Pharaoh whipped them
into discipline with the harsh tones
of his voice, and strung them into
a close line, to advance slowly
through the Temple. “Have thy
blades ready!” he added. “They
cannot escape us now : they are
trapped. Forward!”

N othing could get through
that line. It was like a fine-
toothed comb, with every tooth a

THE HANDS OF ATEN

man. Craig saw it coming, and knew
that he and the girl could not go
much farther back, for already he
sensed himself directly beneath the
looming figure of Aten. Yet the
gentle touch led him on — around and
past the idol into the furthermost
comer of the Temple. It was then
that Taia paused, felt around, and
placed Craig’s right hand upon some
unseen knob in the wall. Her faint
whisper hurriedly explained the pur-
pose of the knob as Wes drank in
her words eagerly.

"There is a secret room behind
the idol, from whence the priests
ape the God's voice and move his
hands at sacrifice. A priest should
be there e’en now, ready for the cere-
mony. Thou must overcome him,
Divine One, and we too can hide
therein. Hrihor dare not search for
us there while others are present,
for e’en Shabako knows not of the
room. Quick, then — they come ! Thy
hand is on the latch of the secret
panel. I follow thee I”

Wes pressed the girl’s hand tightly
and his body tensed. Then, without
hesitation, he jerked the secret panel
back. A faint glow of light lay
ahead, and he plunged into the tiny
room that lay revealed.

An alarmed face stared up — the
priest ! Wes leaped at him, his steely
fingers thumbing into the man’s
throat and throttling its scream to a
gasping choke. All the American’s
pent-up fury went into a lunge that
the priest could not begin to stand
against. He was bowled sharply over
and went down, Craig on top, and
there the fight ended as suddenly
as it had begun. The priest’s head
thudded into the smooth rock floor;
a convulsion quivered his body; he
moaned and lay still.

A grim flicker in his eyes, Craig
got up and looked around for Taia.
Then astonishment and cold fear
swept through him.

The secret door was closed — but
she was not inside!

“VTOW what — ” Wesley Craig

AN gasped.

He did not dare finish the thought.
He glared around, much as a trapped
tiger does, his brain a turmoil. His
eyes fell on a ladder that led up
from the floor to a niche in the left
wall — a slit about forty feet high, a
pool of darkness, shadowed from the
thin tongue of flame that lit the
room. Only half realizing what the
slit was, Wes sprang forward and
leaped up the ladder. A platform
was built high up inside the niche,
a place for a man to stand on. The
American reached it, pressed him-
self forward, and peered through a
tiny hole that was in the rock ahead.
He knew it ought to command a view
of the Temple.

But if it did, Craig could see noth-
ing, for there was no light in the
huge vault outside. For minutes the
brooding silence was not broken,
save by an occasional scraping sound
made by one of the searching line of
men. There was no hint of the girl
who waited beside the hideous figure
of the god, nor of the network that
gradually closed in on her.

But suddenly the silence was shat-
tered by a shout.

“I have her!” someone yelled.
Then came a multitude of sounds.
The piercing voice of Hrihor was
audible above them all.

“Light the lamps! Hast thou the
other, too?”

“Nay — he is not here.”

“Not here? What — ”

A SPARK of light made an er-
ratic course from the Temple
door: someone was bringing a flame
to light the lamps. A moment later
there was a flare of yellow light as
the oil in a large wall lamp caught
fire, and then the darkness melted
further before a wave of light from
the opposite wall. Nota^could be seen
the warriors who, with gleaming out-
drawn swords, were clustered around
the girl. Shabako was gripping her

ASTOUNDING STORIES

arm and (baking her roughly; the
High Priest was drawing to a stop
before her, to stand glaring at her
with hate-inflamed eyes.

“Tell us!” roared the Pharaoh.
“Where is the man?"

She looked at him levelly. Her
eyes were quiteN calm, and she
breathed evenly. Tfaere was a glori-
ous light in her eyes as she re-
plied.

“I will tell thee,” she said ;
“though thou wilt hot comprehend.
He vanished. Vanished, even as a
god. He was here beside me, in the
darkness — and then suddenly he was
gone. But why not? For he was a
god. . . .”

The soldiers gaped at her. Silence
came down in the Temple. The High
Priest did not break it, but only
stared cloeely at the girl with eyes
that suddenly had something more
than hate in them — comprehension,
and a trace of fear. . . .

But the Pharaoh Shabako’s eyes
were only wrathful, and he shouted :

“A god? Vanished, sayest thou?
Lies! Lies! But thou canst not lie
to Aten! The God knows of a way
to loosen thy tongue!"

Despite herself, Taia shuddered.
She knew that way.

G radually the Temple was

filling with other worshippers
come to see the sacrifice, and soon
there were sixty or seventy of them.
The men outnumbered the women
two to one, and none of them^was
very old. Fifty was about their age
limit — and those who were near this
age were reluctant to let their eyes
rest on the hands of the idol. When
they did glance at them, and at the
cruel knife blade in the upper one,
fear showed on their faces. There
were also very few children. . . .

Hrihor's thin features grew un-
readable in the coldness that settled
upon them. He was now in the role
of High Priest: apart, separate from
the rrmniifwi mob before him; inter-

preter of Aten’s divine mysteries;
playing his part of one who listened
to a god’s awful whisperings. Im-
passively he superintended the bind-
ing of Taia by a priestess, whs
tightened the cords around the girl's
slim body with daw-like hands, s
gleam of unholy anticipation on bet
fleshless, soured face. Then the High
Priest turned from the altar and
faced the crowd of people.

“Silence!” he commanded. “Si-
lence, before thy God Aten!”

A hush fell instantly. Their eyes
centered on the bound figure of tht
girl, standing just beside the lower-
most hand of the idol that would
presently claim her. Her face was
very pale, but none could detect fear
in it. There was an uneasy stir, ^
shifting of feet, a mumbling, as her
fresh young beauty struck the
watchers. Somewhere a man mut-
tered that she was very young to die
Aten had returned her once : perhaps
the God did not wish her to per-
ish. His neighbor demurred

And the ceremony went on.

Ornate but crude censers were is
the hands of two priests ; the incenss
was lit by long tapers, and its acrid
odor wound up in wavering purpls
spirals of smoke. On each side of
Hrihor were five under-priests, eyes
stiffly on their superior’s impassive
face. The soldiers had retreated
from the altar and now were massed
in the rear of the Temple, their spear
blades glittering dully above their
heads.

The High Priest raised bis hands
slowly, and stared with glazed eyes
into the gloom of the ceiling, 'higk
above. “Praise !” he shrilled. “Praiss
to Aten!”

T HE assembled worshippers
joined him in the chant of sacri-
fice. It was low and soft, and, si
first, almost drowsy, like the alow
stir of a tropical wind through palm
leaves. But soon it quickened with
rising tones from perfectly cow

THE HANDS OP ATEN

certed voices ; it soared up ; its tenor
changed; it became fierce, lustful,
eager for blood, eager for the sac-
rifice, a heathen chant shrilling for
sight of a girl’s body in the god’s
awful hands.

And it died in a sad, discordant
moan on an expectant note. . . .

Hrihor’s body, stiff and rigid in its
ceremonial robes, did not seem hu-
man as he stretched his arms straight
forward and wheeled silently to the
huge idol of stone. A full two min-
utes he stood without so much as
flicking an eyelash; then, not shift-
ing bis glazed stare, he harshly in-
toned :

“Ages ago our ancestors set out
from the homeland of Egypt in a
great galley, bound for the barbarian
countries of the north in quest of
metal. But storms seized upon them,
drove them far from their course, till
at last, weak from hunger, they came
to this land of ice, where their gal-
ley was wrecked and they were cast
ashore. At first all was dark; then
came the Sun God Aten’s life giving
rays, leading them to this mountain,
which they inhabited and in which
they carved this Temple wherein to
worship the God who had saved
them. The lord of the galley was the
first Pharaoh; the priest of the gal-
ley was called High Priest; the
Pharaoh took a concubine to wife —
and thus was our civilization begun.

‘There were virgins of the
Temple, holy, set apart from man,
sacred to Aten. Never did one be-
tray her sacred trust — never, until
Taia fled to the lan^ of ice with the
sacrilegious Inaros. Our mighty
Pharaoh pursued them, and after
twenty years, by Aten’s special
grace, slew the man and brought the
maid back to pay for her transgres-
sion. Never before has this hap-
pened.”

He paused, waiting. An under-
priest spoke, evidently following
some ritual.

"Here is the priestess, O High

Priest of Aten I What penalty must
she pay?”

“Death in Aten’s hands I" the cold
voice shrilled instantly. “The God
wills it I"

B UT now came an interruption,
unexpected and disconcerting
to the well-laid plans of Hrihor. The
voice of Pharaoh Shabako cried out :
“Another came with this priestess
— a blasphemous stranger! He lies
concealed; the maid will not tell
where! High Priest, let her be tor-
tured in Aten’s hands until she re-
veals where he is!”

For a moment Hrihor lost his mask-
like, rigidity of expression. His eyes
shifted nervously. But Shabako was
not to be denied. Again he repeated
his demand.

“We must pray to Aten to make
his hand descend on her, prick and
gash her, till she divulges!”

A murmur arose from the people
in the Temple: they approved the
torture. Hrihor, obviously reluctant,'
was forced to comply.

“O mighty Aten,” he cried, turn-
ing to the idol, “thou hast heard our
Pharaoh. We pray to thee to lay
thy hand on the priestess Taia, till
she tells where the stranger lies con-
cealed!"

Shabako nodded in approval.
While a mumbled prayer rose, four
priests strode to the girl, lifted her
slight form and flung it on the up-
turned lower hand of the idol. They
strapped her there securely, her
breast but ten feet below the waiting
knife. Even then she did not strug-
gle or cry out.

She did not know who had won'
the fight inside the secret room, but
her heart told her it was the mys-
terious stranger, for was he not a
god? She would not be afraid, for
he would surely reveal his divinity,
and save her, even as he had from
hu twenty-year death, and from her
bonds in the cell where they had
beeli imprisoned. . . .

ASTOUNDING STORIES

The softly chanted prayer surged
through the Temple. Hrihor’s slit-
ted eyes were on the knife in the
upper palm of the idol. Suddenly
he flung up his arms, and cried:
“Now, O Aten!"

The prayer stopped. With fear-
ful interest the people stared at the
dagger, at the inert figure of the
girl — the more elderly seeing in her
a hint of what wda to come to them
when their days jot service were
ended.

The knife started downward.

T AIA’S eyes were closed. Her
breathing was evqn and regular.
She did not seem at all aware of the
shaft of steel that slowly, in the
hushed gasp from the audience,
stirred with the stone hand that held
it and moved deliberately downward.

To the silent crowd of wor-
shippers it was a religious phenom-
enon, and well calculated to strike
fear and awe into their hearts. The
moving idol seemed to be a living
thing, motivated by the unseen spirit
of the god it represented, who caused
the massive upper hand to execute
his will. Its movement was slow and
clumsy, and close listeners would
have heard a slight creaking noise
from somewhere behind it — but the
ears of the worshippers were deaf
from the fear and the horror in
which they were vicariously partici-
pating.

Slowly the hands came together,
until the long, wicked shear was but
a foot above the bound girl. ... It
dropped to withii^. inches of her
flesh. . . .

And there it stopped.

Then, before the amazed crowd
could realize what was happening,
before even Hrihor could control the
surprise that raised his brows in-
credulously, the palm in which the
blade was implanted slowly retraced
its course and returned to its orig-
inal position.

A breathless silence reigned in the

Temple. The hand was motionless.
It did not stir again.

“The God will not touch his
priestess!"

It was a faint, awed whisper that
came from someone amongst the wor-
shippers. But Hrihor heard it, and
so did the other priests. While they
stared at each other, utterly at a loss,
the whisper was taken up and re-
peated on all sides.

“The God will not touch his
priestesB !“

T HE High Priest sensed the
crowds conviction, and sensed
them turning against him. His beady
eyes glanced around nervously. Hit
lips a thin line, he called to his sec-
ond ranking priest in a tense whis-
per, and, when the other came to him,
muttered in his ear:

“ ’Tis the stranger, hiding in thf
secret chamber, who does this! He
has overcome our brother there, and
now controls the levers! And Taia
knows it ; and if she reveals it to the
people our hold will be broken! She
must be killed !”

“Yea! But how? We must be
quick!”

Hrihor’s crafty face Bet cruelly.
“I know a way. Watch thou. . . .”
He strode to the fore of the altar
and flung his hands high. A shrill
shout from his thin lipB cut the un-
easy murmuring short.

“Hearken! Aten will not torture
His own priestess ! He will not m»i™
those who have sworn their lives
to Him!”

The silent crowd waited for hie
next words. He screamed savagely.

“His High Priest must perform the
rite! Aten has appointed me to be
His instrument of vengeance!" '

A gleam of unholy exultation was
in his narrowed eyes. His face
worked; he thrust a hand inside his
ornate ceremonial vestment.

“By Divine Will,” he cried, “this
knife in my hand is the knife in the
God’s hand!"

THE HANDS OF ATEN

And he whipped a long blade from
the robe.

Never before had such a ceremony
been held in the Temple of Aten,
the Sun God. Never before had the
band of the god paused above the
living sacrifice and deliberately risen
again without tasting blood. It was
miracle upon miracle; half-bewil-
dered, Pharaoh Shabako and the herd
of common people alike waited for
what would come next, their High
Priest’s savage words somewhat re-
assuring them that all was correct.

They saw him clench his dagger
tightly and with slow steps advance
to the side of the helpless girl. Glar-
ing dawn at her, he swung the blade
high. It poised directly over her
heart. It would not torture her, Taia
knew: it was death that she read in
the High Priest’s eyes. She closed
her own, and thought of the
stranger ; she breathed a silent 1
prayer to him. She waited.

“In Aten’s name!’’ screamed
Hrihor, and brought the dagger
down.

A T that second the sharp roar of
a sudden explosion thundered
through the Temple, and the startled
worshippers saw, slowly trickling
from the right eye of Aten, a curling
streamer of gray smoke.

They did not know what had hap-
pened. And not until, after a mo-
ment of fearful qjlence, they saw the
expression on Hrihor’s face change
to great surprise, and saw his right
hand relax and drop the dagger to
the floor, did they compreliend that
he had been struck down.

He clutched at his side, staggered,
twisted round, and fell full length
before the feet of the god whose
representative he was.

A frightened woman close to the
altar saw a dark red stain on his robe,
and a scream from her lips pierced
out:

“He is dead! Killed by Aten —
whose eyes have looked death! Oh I”

She flung herself flat on the floor,
and the others, back to the soldiers
in the rear, did likewise. The priests
clustered together in a scared group,
staring fearfully at the right eye of
the idol, from which a wisp of smoke
was still trailing. None dared ap-
proach the outstretched figure of the
High Priest. Only Shabako dared
look at him.

The Pharaoh clutched his sword
tightly, muttering uneasily to him-
self. Not a sound came from the
prostrate multitude. The slow
echoes of the explosion died away;
again the heavy silence fell. Then
Shabako suddenly stared around, and
peered up at the stone image of the
god.

H IS ears had caught a sound. It
was a panting and scuffling
noise, as if men were fighting. It
grew, even though muffled by ap- '
parently intervening rock. The be-
ginning of a scream, cut short into a
choke, added to its volume. The wor-
shippers far back in the Temple
heard it, and looked up. There was
a muffled crash — then another crash
of thundering noise, similar to the
one that had come from the god's
eye.

But this time no smoke eddied
from the eye. The explosion echoed
through the Temple and died away,
while all the time Pharaoh Shabako
stared at the idol. Slow comprehen-
sion broke through the bewilderment
on his face. Suddenly he swung
around and gripped the cowering
form of the second ranking priest,
who stood near him.

"From whence came those sounds,
Priest?” he hissed. “Tell me!”

The frightened priest gibbered un-
intelligibly, but there was a guilty*
look on his face which spurred Sha-
bako on. He shook the man and
roared the question again. Then the
priest spoke.

“They came — from — the secret
chamber,” he stammered.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

A gup rose from the crowd be-
hind. But before they could master
their astonishment, Shahaho had
whipped his sword from its sheath
amt sprung up the altar.

“Show me this chamber!” he cried.

U P on the platform in the secret
room, bis eye glued to the hole
that was the eye of Aten, Wes Craig
had seen and heard everything that
had transpired. He had been shocked
to see the brave thing Taia had sub-
mitted to, rather than divulge where
he was hidden. Sacrificing herself,
so that he, a stranker, might have a
few more minutes of life! It hurt.

He had climbed down from the
platform and glared around the
lower floor of the secret room again,
scanning shelves that were crowded
with scores of curious objects, sacred
relics, properties to aid in the manip-
ulation of the idol and other uniden-
tifiable things — looking for a poten-
tial weapon. If the girl had to die
— and he — it would be better to go
out and meet his enemies, taking
some of them with him in full fight.

And then his heart leaped madly
at the sight of something lying on
one of the shelves.

A stumpy black shape, it was, with
a short barrel of cold blue steel, and
it looked as much out of place in that
chamber as did the fur-clad man who
stared half-unbelievingly at it. It
was a foreigner, as be was, in the
gloomy corridors and chambers of
the race that worshipped Aten. It
too was American. It was a friend —
his automatic !

To Wes Craig, bewildered and
tired and sadly without hope, it
almost seemed to be alive, smiling at
him with its wicked round mouth.
He picked it up, and it bolstered his
courage, his hope and his energy
enormously. At once be leaped to
the closed entrance-door and felt for
the lever that opened it. But there
he paused a moment to think.

There was only the faintest chance

of fighting free with Taia now.
There were at least thirty men out-
side, and he had only seven bullets.
And then be remembered where be
was, and what the purpose of the
secret room was. He remembered,
also, a certain nervous expression on
the High Priest’s face that he had
just seen. . . .

He swung around and inspected
the levers and crude wheels of wood
that led to a handle up in the niche,
shoulder-high to whoever might
stand on the platform there. He had
had experience with certain idols in
Egypt. He remembered particularly
one that had been worshipped in a
degenerate age — its hands, its eyes.
And then he stepped over the
sprawling body of the still uncon-
scious priest and climbed to the plat-
form and his peep-hole again.

As he pressed himself forward in
the niche, and applied his eye to
the slit, he gently fingered the han-
dle of the large lever right beside
him. And he also measured the size
of the slit in the right eye of the
god. . . .

C RAIG had not minded shooting
the murderous High Priest Hri-
hor, but he did not want to kill the
under-priest in the secret room. He
had had no choice in the matter. Ai
the tensest moment in the dramatic
scene in the Temple, just when he
had been hoping that the mysterious
death he had sent to Hrihor would
frighten the worshippers away, be
had heard a slight rustling sound be-
hind him, and had turned just in
time to see a bate-distorted face
within feet of him, and a short
curved knife upraised to strike him
in the back. It was the priest, whom
he had left unconscious below, now
revived and coming to kill him.

Wes could have shot the man thru
and there, but be knew the thunder
of his gun would betray his pres-
ence; so, using the weapon as a dob
he had struck out at bis attacker and

THE HANDS OP ATEN

tried to block the thruet of the knife.
For a moment he was successful ; but
the knife prosed the better weapon
in the close rough and tumble scuffle
that ensued and, with its point at his
very throat, Wes had been forced to
shoot.

He had killed the man instantly,
but he felt no slightest relief. Like
a tiger — even before the crashing
echoes had died away in the little
room — he sprang back to his peep-
hole to see what the effect was out-
side. And just what he feared most
was happening. The frightened
priest in the Temple was telling the
suspicious Shabako about the hidden
chamber — and even then was leading
him to the secret entrance !

T HE two passed the American's
line of vision, and after a mo-
ment he heard them fumbling at the
catch of the panel. He could shoot
them both down, easily, but there
would still be a whole Temple fnll
of warriors and priests to be faced
with only three bplletsl
Then, in a flash, came an inspira-
tion.

Wes swung around, leveled the
automatic’s muzzle at the hole in the
idol’s eye, sighted carefully, and
squeezed the trigger. And as the ex-
plosion boomed through the vast
chamber outside, he veered the gun
in a different aim and fired again;
and again.

The two huge oil lamps, imbedded
one in each side wall, splintered and
crashed.

“Now for it!” Wes Craig mut-
tered. He sprang for the ladder,
snatching the dagger of the dead
priest as he passed, and half-slid,
half-tumbled to the floor below. At
once he was at the secret door and
gTasping the lever that worked it;
and, pausing only to take a deep
breath, he plunged out.

He came into a scene of wildest
confusion. Panic-stricken screams
rang in his ears; the oil from the

cracked lamps, transformed into
splatters of flame, had splashed down
from the walls and scattered fire over
much of the floor. A tumult of shad-
ows moiled through the flames as
the crowd fought to get free. Shrieks
and gasps and curses cut through the
air: the worshippers were caught up
in a mob panic caused more by their
superstitious frenzy than by the
understandable fire. The flames
pierced fantastically into the black-
ness, throwing a vivid glow on the
frantic faces of the people who
struggled to get out of their reach.
The altar was deserted, save for the
girl who still lay on the hand of the
idol. . . .

W ES CRAIG, a blur in the
wavering shadows, darted to
her side. His dagger sped through
the cords that bound her, and be
lifted her slight form down. For a
moment she clung to him.

“I knew thou.wouldst come. Di-
vine One!" she whispered. “I knew!”
He smiled for answer, gripped her
hand, and then swiftly led her along
the least-crowded wall of the Temple
towards the dobr, packed with a
frantic, struggling crowd of soldiers,
people and priests.

The deceptive shadows thrown by
the flames were kind to them; for
some time no one in the whole crowd
recognized the two. Everyone was
reacting in a bljnd panic of fear from
the mysterious thunders that had
killed their High Priest, splintered
the lamps, and caused the resultant
inferno of leaping fire. But discov-
ery was inevitable, and at last one
did see the fleeing pair— one who had
kept his head and was looking for
them. It was Shabako. He roared:
“The stranger escapes— and the
girl! There, there! Hold them!”
His imperative shout brought a
measure of control to the soldiers
who were fighting to get through
the doorway. They grouped uncer-
tainly together, gripping their

ASTOUNDING STORIES

swords and staring wildly around.
They saw, in the ruddy light of the
flames, a grim-faced man pressing
into them, holding in one band a
stubby black object, and in the other
the arm of the sacrifice, Taia.

W ES cursed, and, forgetting
that the warriors understood
no English, ordered them in that
tongue to make way for him. For
answer, one of them leaped out at
him, his sword swinging up. Craig’s
face set ; he levelled) the automatic
and fired. The bullet caught the
man in the midst of his leap; he
spun round, his sword clanked to the
floor, and he fell.

Wes fired again at the staring
mob; then again; but the last time
only a sharp click answered his
trigger finger. He flung the gun
into the thick of the hesitating war-
riors, swept the dead soldier’s sword
oif the floor and pressed forward, in-
tending to hack his way through.

But he did not have to. The other
warriors were only human. They
had just seen uncanny, instant death.
They shrank back from the door;
some even ran back from the
stranger, preferring the flames to the
thunder-death that he meted out.
The doorway was cleared, and Craig
pulled the girl through.

“Back to the left!” she gasped.
“Across the bridge ! Quick — Shabako
comes !”

Even as they ran, they heard the
Pharaoh’s furious bawling as he
struggled up to the door of the Tem-
ple, which he had not been able to
reach for the rolling tide of fear-
stricken people around him. He was
shouting :

"After them — after them! They
cross the bridge! Follow them,
everyone ! I will take the other way
up, and trap them ! Hurry!”

He turned to the right, panting up
the corridor in the direction from
which he had first approached the
Temple. And slowly, as they col-

lected their dazed wits, the swarm
of warriors and priests and common
people followed the fleeing pair to-
ward the bridge.

W ES CRAIG was tired, but the
shouting pursuit lent strength
to his near-exhausted limbs. Spears
snaked after Taia and him from the
warriors close behind; but, once
across the dangerous bridge, he dis-
regarded them long enough to hack
its supports through and see it fade
into the blackness beneath. “Get
across now, damn you!” he yelled,
and ran again after the girl’s leading
figure.

All now depended on their speed
in reaching the top of the extinct
volcano, and of that speed he was
none too confident. He had gone
through two strength-sapping fights
in the last hour; his nerves were
ragged from the constant strain, and
his breath came in racking sobs. He
wished passionately he had a loaded
gun — even his smashed vial of Kun-
drenaline. The fluid would have put
marvelous new life in his weary
limbs.

“Hurry, Taia!” he gasped: “wo
must beat them! Shabako goes some
other way to head us off! If only
we can get to my bird-that-flies-in-
the-air!”

Once again they stumbled up the
difficult passage, fighting for speed
with tired bodies, bodies which every
twist and obstacle tried sorely.
Without the girl, Wes could never
have made it; she led him unerring-
ly through the branching, gloomily-
lit corridors, up flights of rickety
steps, her knowledge of several
short-cuts aiding measurably the
speed of their progress. Tired as he
was, admiration for the mighty fire
of courage that burned in Taia’s
frail figure, and drove it forward
when all physical strength was gone,
never left him. For she had been
through as much as he — and even
morel . . .

THE HANDS OP ATEN

T HEY did not know it then, but'
the Pharaoh had made good time
on the other side. As they at last
neared the cup of the crater, and
passed the place where the two di-
verging main corridors, each slant-
ing downwards, met, they heard
Shabako’s shouts and the rapid clat-
ter of his feet on the rock floor.

In a desperate sprint, they gained
the flight of steps, stumbled up them,
and came again into the glorious
fresh cold air, and the slanting rays
of the setting sun. . . .

New life surged through Craig’s
body; but, whereas he ran across the
uneven cup of the crater with fresh
speed, the girl seemed suddenly to
tire. He had taken the lead; now
he went back, took her hand and
pulled her forward, puzzled by her
sudden exhaustion. He did not have
time to question her, however, for
the rapid beat of footsteps grew
quickly very loud, and with a shout
Shabako burst up into the open and
caught sight of them.

The two went across the Up and
slid down the slope of the volcano
with all the haste they could, Sha-
bako only twenty yards behind, his
sword waving aloft and his dark face
lit with a savage Jiate. And he was
gaining — gaining steadily; and Taia
was tiring more and more, and was
becoming almost a dead weight on
Wes Craig's supporting arm. . . .

This was the last stretch, over al-
most the same ground the girl and
her dead lover, Inaros, had covered
twenty years before — and with the
same pursuer behind. Again, by
grace of the potent Kundrenaline,
Shabako and the girl were enacting
the desperate chase of years before,
the chase that had ended in death for
Inaros. . . .

But there was a stricken look in
Taia’s eyes now.

"I am suddenly so tired, Divine
One!” she gasped. She seemed hard-
ly able to walk. Craig could not
understand. Snatching a glance back-

wards, he saw that the Pharaoh, too,
seemed to be strangely tiring — but
gaining nevertheless. . . .

H E was practically carrying the
suddenly exhausted girl when
they came to the cleft in the ice
from which he had dug her the day
before. There was no time to get
across, for before they could climb
the other side Shabako would be on
them. Wes gripped the handle of
his blade. Here the last fight would
have* (p be made.

“Go down the deft, out of the
way!” he told the girl rapidly. He
did not have time to help her; he
swung round just in time to parry a
slash of Shabako’s sword with his
own.

Then Wes Craig stepped back and
stared at his opponent, a peculiar,
look in his eyes.

It might have been merely from
the force of his first swipe, or be
might have slipped — but Shabako
staggered drunkenly and barely
avoided falling. With an oath, he
came erect and once more charged at
the American. It was easy for Wes
to avoid his thrust; it would have
been childishly easy to drive ’his
blade through the Pharaoh’s un-
guarded chest. But somehow Craig
withheld his attack, and only peered
more closely at the other. He rubbed
his hand across his eyes. What he
was seeing was incredible.

For Shabako's face was going a
ghastly white; and, as Wes watched,
he groaned, tried to raise his sword
arm for another blow — and could
not. He staggered, legs askew,
lurched crazily forward, stumbled,
and at last pitched down on the ice
near the cleft.

Then his great body rolled over,
arms flung wide, and lay still. And
the face of Pharaoh Shabako stared
unseeingly up at the darkening
sky. . . .

Then, in a flash, understanding
came to Wes Craig.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

“Oh, God!” he cried. “The Kun-
drenalinel”

He had forgotten completely about
the liquid he had infused into Sha-
babo’a veins. Its potency, adequate
to the tremendous task of revitaliz-
ing a long-dead heart, had given out
— hastened, no doubt, by the great
physical exertions of the man, and
made sudden by the return to the
biting air of the ice fields. The
liquid was only for emergency use,
anyway, and supposed to serve for a
period of but hours* after which the
heart was intended to carry on alone.

Shabako’s heart had not been able
to carry on any longer. . . .

W ES CRAIG was afraid to
think, afraid almost to look,
to see how Taia had stood the shock.
Her sudden weariness became at
once all too clear to him. . . .

Slowly he turned and looked down
into the cleft. He saw her — a slen-
der, quiet little figure, flat on the ice
by the body of her slain lover.

He leaped down the slippery bank
and ran to her side; knelt there, and
grasped her cold white hand.

The girl’s eyelids were closed, but
when he touched her, they flickered,
and a little sigh came from her pallid
lips. Then her large black eyes
opened and looked up straight into
his — and when she saw him there,
she smiled.

It wrenched the man’s heart.
‘‘Taia!’’ he cried. “Taia!”

She nodded feebly, still smiling,
and her lips moved. He bent close.
She was whispering something. The
words came to him through a great
fear.

“Take me — take me, O Divine One.
Take me with thee to — to thy —
heaven. . . . Canst thou not — take—
Taia?”

With her last bit of quickly ebbing
strength, she pressed his hand. Then
the fingers went limp in his, and her
arm dropped. And her eyelids gent-
ly closed. . . .

Wes’s jaws were clenched tightly
as he folded her hands across her
slim body. “If thy Pharaoh had not
made me drop the vial," he mur-
mured softly, “I would again bring
thee to life, Taia, and take thee to
my heaven. . . Though" — with a sad
smile, and relapsing into English —
“Times Square would not be quite
the heaven you had pictured. . . .”

H E stood up. The irony of the
thing gripped him, and
brought a wry smile to his tight lips.
The body of Inaros, her dead lover,
lay at her side; and Shabako’s still
figure was but feet away. Once
again they were all together in
death. The Kundrenaline had
pierced the black veil of their silent
tryst and brought them back for a
few fleeting hours ; but even modern
science could not stand long against
the weight of twenty years.

And science would not have an-
other chance with their still bodies.
They would quickly be found there
by the pursuing Egyptians, and
would be gone, already decaying,
when he could get back with another
vial. . . .

A growing murmur of nearby
voices brought the silent man back
to the present. Over the cleft in
the ice he saw a string of priests and
warriors speeding towards him. He
sighed. It was time to go. There
was much he wanted to learn about
these people and their Btrange civil-
ization, but there was no chance for
it now. Perhaps on another trip,
later.

He looked a last time on Taia, ly-
ing by her lover.

Then he scrambled up the other
bank and ran towards the hillock be-
hind which a sleek black monoplane
with an eight hundred horse-power
motor awaited him

T HE thing that followed next
was never forgotten by the peo-
ple who worshipped Aten, the Sun

THE HANDS OF ATEN

God. It went down in legends; it
wn repeated and rr prate d, and it
grew in the telling. It was awful ;
it was magical; it waa godlike.

A great thunder sounded from be-
hind the hillock of ice, a thunder
that pulsed louder and loader, until
the people fell down in awe, hardly
daring to look. When they did, they
saw a gleaming black form that stood
on queer shafts of wood come glid-
ing with the speed of the wind from
behind the hillock. It straightened
out on a stretch of snow, bellowing
with a loudness that hammered their
eardrums into numbness , 7 and sped
lightly along till the queer shafts of
wood left the surface and the sleek
black object soared up into the air.

Into the air! With frightened eyes
they watched it wheel around, and
then come roaring towards them.
They fell flat again, and did not dare
to look. The thunderous blast passed
close over them, then dwindled and
dwindled, until they ventured tim-
idly to look up again.

They saw the shape ringed with
sunset fire hurtling through the air,
soaring up and up and up . . . till
it died to a speck . . . till it disap-
peared into the face of the sun *ey
worshipped as Aten. . . .

A warrior spoke. His tones were
low and awed, but they all heard

him

“Truly.’' he whispered, “he was a
god! . . ."

A ONE-BILLIONTH-OF-A-SEGOND CAMERA

/ T'HROUGH use of a spectroscopic
camera with a shutter which operates
in about one-billionth of a second, physi-
cists at the University of California have
been able to take pictures of the action
of light at various periods daring the
coarse of an electrical spark which Lasta
only one one-hundred- thousandth of a
second.

They have been able to show by photo-
graphic evidence that the magnetic field
developed by the passage of an electric
current across the spark gap gives the first
light emitted a different appearance from
that emitted a few millionths of a second
later.

At the moment that the spark jumps,
electricity is released in enormous quan-
tities much as water is released by the
breaking of a dam. It is this sudden re-
lease of the dammed-up current across
the spark gap that causes the temporary
magnetic field and the difference in the
appearance of the light from the spark.

In answer to those wbo scoff at the pos-
sibility of a camera shutter operating in a
billionth of a second, it was explained that
the abutter is not a mechanical device,
but operates automatically through the
application of a physical law of light In
a general way, it might be said that the
•park takes its own picture.

The spectroscope camera is set up at
one end of a long corridor. When the
electrical current jumps across the spark
gap it sets up a momentary current in a
set of wires running the length of the cor-
ridor and connected with the cam e ra .
Tbs current travels toward the camera

at the rate of about 186,000 miles a second.

At about the same instant that the as-
rent jiaups, or an mfmitesanal fraction
of a second later, the light of the result-
ing spark starts toward the camera at a
trifle more than 186,000 miles a second.
It as a race between the spark current and
the spark light as to which arrives first.
The current jumps just before the spark
appears; so it is possible for the current
to reach the camera and close the shutter
even before the light which is to be pic-
tured arrives.

By lengthening the wires between the
spark gap and the camera the light is al-
lowed to arrive first. By suitable adjust-
ment of the wiring, the shutter can be
made to close during any one-billionth
of a second interval during the first four
ten -millionths of a second of the spark's
short life.

The camera shutter consists of two
Nicol prisms of Iceland spar and balBsm,
arranged in such a way that under ordi-
nary conditions the light coming from the
spark is stopped by polariration and pre-
vented from reaching the camera. Be-
tween these two prisma, however, is a
solution of chemicals which will depolar-
ize the light and allow it to continue.

The wires leading from the 9 park gap
connect with this solution. When the
current jumps across the gap it ra£es
down the c orridor and electrizes the so-
lution for about one-billionth of a second
This electrification removes the depolar-
ising effects of the solatia* and light pas-
sage dopi; m other words, the shatter is
closed.

"Good Lord I What s that f"

The Diamond Thunderbolt

By H. Thompson Rich

P ROF. NORMAN PRES-

COTT, leader of the Ameri-
can Kinchinjunga expedi-
tion, crept from his dog-tent
perched eerily at the 26,000-foot
level of this un- ,

scaled Himalayan

_ __t, • i Locked in a ro<

peak, the third , p . c .._. uc h „

highest in the awaited young S

world. With anx- of dil

ious eyes he

searched the appalling slopes that
lifted another 2,000 feet to its ma-
jestic summit, now glistening in the
radiance of sunset.

Locked in a rocket and fired into
space ! — such was the fate which
awaited young Stoddard at the end
of the diamond trail!

Where was young Jack Stoddard,
official geologist and crack moun-
taineer of the party?

That morning Professor Prescott
and Stoddard had set off together,

I from Camp No.

4, at the 22,000-
,h. fate which • foot level. Mount-

ddard at the end j ing laboriously

ond trail! I ij Ut swiftly, they

‘ had reached the

present eyrie by noon. There Stod-
dard had left the leader of the ex-
pedition and pushed on alone, to
reconnoiter a razor-back ridge that

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

looked as though it might prove the
key to the summit.

But the afternoon had passed; the
daring young geologist had prom-
ised to return in an hour; and now
it was sunset, with still no sign of

him.

Professor Prescott sighed, and a
bitter expression crossed his bronzed,
lined face. Just one more evidence
of the cursed luck that had marked
the expedition from the start!

Well he knew that he mutt head
down at once for Camp No. 4 or risk
death on this barren, wind-swept
slope, and equally well he knew that
to go would be to leave his brave
companion to his fate, providing he
had not already met it on those deso-
late ridges above.

Yes, and another thing he knew.
The report of this latest disaster
would mean the doom of the expe-
dition. The terrified, superstitious
natives would bolt, claiming the
“snow people” had struck again.

"Cods of the Mountain” they
called them, those mysterious beings
they alone seemed to see— evil spirits
who kept guard over this towering
realm, determined none should gain
its ultimate heights.

f .

T ENSELY Professor Prescott
stood there on that narrow shelf
of glacial ice, peering off into the
•unset.

A hundred miles to the west,
bathed in the refulgence of a thou-
sand rainbows, rose the incredible
peak of Everest, mightiest of all
mountains, yet less than 1,000 feet
higher than Kinchinjunga. And
down, straight down those almost
vertical slopes up which the expedi-
tion had toiled all summer, lay
gorges choked with tropical growth.
Off to the south, a scant fifty miles
•way, the British health station of
Darjeeling flashed its white villss in
the coppery glow.

An awesome spectacle!— one that
human eyes had seldom if ever seen.

Yet from the summit, so invitingly
near!

Perhaps, even now, Stoddard was
witnessing this incomparable sight.
To push on, to join him , meant tri-
umph. To head down, defeat. While
to stay, to wait.

Grimly, Professor Prescott left his
insecure perch and headed up over
that razor-back ridge whence the
young geologist had vanished.

As he proceeded cautiously along,
drawing sharp, quick breaths in the
rarefied upper atmosphere, he told
himself it was ambition that was
leading him on; but in his heart he
knew it was not so. In his heart,
he knew he was going to the rescue
of his gallant companion, though the
way meant death.

A HUNDRED yards had been
gained, perhaps two — each des-
perate foothold fraught with peril of
a plunge into the yawning abysms
to left and right — when suddenly
he spied a figure on a twilit spur
ahead.

Panting, he paused. It must be
Stoddard! Yet it seemed too small,
too ghostly.

Professor Prescott waved, but even
as he looked for an answering sig-
nal, the figure vanished.

“My eyes!” he muttered to him-
self. “I'm getting snow-blind.”
Then he called aloud :

“Jack I Oh, Jack! Hello!"

Only an echo greeted the call, and
he did not repeat it but pushed on
silently, conserving his energy.

Was there truth after all in those
persistent rumors of the natives
about the snow people who inhabited
the upper slopes of the Himalayas?
His tired brain toyed with the idea,
to be cut off sharply by the cheery
call :

"Hi there. Professor I Hi-ho!"

And gazing upwards toward a jut-
ting crag not ten rods beyond, he
saw young Stoddard etched against
the darkening sky.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

I N a few joyous steps, Professor
Prescott had reached his auda-
cious companion.

"Thank God I" he gasped. "I’d
given you up for lost.”

“Why give me up for anything so
unpleasant?” was the genial reply.
"I’ve just been enjoying the view.”
"Then — then you reached the
top?” with a quick intake of breath.

"Well, not exactly, but I feel on
top of the world, just the same.”

The professor’s spirits fell.

“Then I can’t see — ■'

“Of course you can’t see!” inter-
rupted Stoddard. “But look at this I”
As he spoke, he drew from a pocket
of his leather jacket something that
caught the last light of the dying
day and refracted it with weird bril-
liance.

Professor Prescott blinked.
“Well?”

“A diamond. As big as your fist I
And here’s another!”

His left hand reached into his
jacket and produced a second
sparkling gem.

“But — but I don’t understand — ”
"Granted. But you will, when I
tell you I’ve found the Diamond
Thunderbolt!”

The professor gave a shrug of
scorn.

“And no doubt you’ve seen the
snow people and have had a perfect
afternoon, while — ”

“No, I haven’t seen any snow peo-
ple, but I’ve had a perfect afternoon,
all right! As I said, I’ve found the
Diamond Thunderbolt; and here are
a couple of chips, picked up from
around the edge.”

S O saying, Stoddard extended his
two specimens toward Professor
Prescott, who disdained at first to
touch them.

“Nothing but quartz!” was the
deprecating comment. "The snow
has affected your eyesight, as it has
my own.”

“I’H say it’s affected yours, if you

don’t recognize diamonds when you
see them. But wait till I show you
the old Thunderbolt itself I It’s — ”
“More quartz I” brusquely. “Be
sensible, Jack. This Diamond Thun-
derbolt thing is a pure myth, like
the snow people business. Just be-
cause this section of India is known
as The Land of the Diamond Thun-
derbolt you think you’re going to
find some precious meteor or other,
whereas the term applies merely to
the Lama’s scepter.”

"Granted it does,” — a little impa-
tiently — “but did it ever occur to you
that where there’s smoke, there’s
fire? Meteor is the word! One struck
here once — a diamond meteor !- 7 -and
I’ve found it. Take a look at these
two specimens and see what you
think.”

Whereupon Professor Prescott ac-
cepted the glinting gems from his
young friend — to gasp a moment la-
ter, as he held them tremblingly;

“Good Lord — they’re diamonds, to
be sure ! Where did you find them?”

S TODDARD hesitated before re-
plying.

“Not far from here,” he said at
length, moving off. “Come, I'll show
you."

But the professor stood firm on
their narrow ledge.

“You must be crazy!” he exclaimed.
“We’ll have trouble enough now, get-
ting back. It’s practically dark al-
ready.”

“Then what’s the odds?” retorted
the young geologist. “We've got all
night.”

“But our friends at Camp No. 4.
Even now, they must think we are
lost.”

“Then further thought won't kill
them. Besides, we’ll be back before
morning — and they can’t send out a
relief party sooner.”

“But any moment a storm may
come up. You know what’ that
would mean.”

“Does it look likely?" scoffed

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

Stoddard, waving his hand, aloft.
“See — there’s the moon I She’ll be
our guide.”

Professor Prescott looked, saw a
slender shallop charting her course
among the stars, and for a moment
was tempted. But speedily his re-
sponsibilities reasserted themselves.

"No, I can’t do it,” he said with
finality. “I owe it to the expedition
to return as soon as possible. Fur-
thermore, there’s the matter of the
authorities. We assured the British
we would adhere strictly to our one
purpose — to scale Kinchinjunga.”

"A mere formality.”

“No— a definite order from the
Lamas. They closed Mt. Everest,
after the last expedition, you will
recall. The Lama’s scepter is veri-
tably a diamond thunderbolt of
power in this region."

Whereupon Stoddard’s patience
snapped.

“Listen!” he said. “I hurried
away because I knew you’d be anx-
ious, but I’m going back, if I have
to—”

“And I say you’re not !” The pro-
fessor’s patience, too, had snapped.
“I’m not going with you, and you’re
not going back alone I As the leader
of this expedition, I forbid it!"

The younger man laughed rasping-
ly, as he shook off the hand that
clasped his arm, and for a moment it
looked as though the two would
fight, there on that dizzy ledge above
the world.

Then Stoddard got control of him-
self.

“Sorry!” he said. “I see I’ve got
to tell you something. Professor.
You think I’m merely the geologist
of this expedition, but in fact I’m
a secret service man from Washing-
ton, on the trail of the biggest dia-
mond-smuggling plot in history —
and here is where the trail ends!"

P ROFESSOR PRESCOTT’S

astonishment at these words
was profound. He stood there

blinking up at Stoddard, scarcely
believing he had heard aright.

“You — you say you are — ?”

“A detective, if you want. Any-
way, if you’ve read the papers, you
must know that for the past year or
more the diamond markets of the
world have been flooded with singu-
larly perfect stones.”

“Yes, I recall reading about that.
They were thought to be synthetic,
were they not?”

“By certain imaginative newspa-
per reporters, not by the experts,
for under the microscope they re-
vealed the invariable characteristics
of diamonds formed by nature — the
tiny flaws and imperfections no ar-
tificial means could duplicate.”

“But didn’t I read something, too,
about some anonymous Indian rajah
who was thought to be raising money
by disposing of his jewels?”

“More newspaper rubbish! For
one thing, British secret service men
traced the rumor down and satisfied
themselves there wasn’t a rajah in
India unloading any diamonds. For
another, no rajah could possibly have
the wealth involved. Why, do you
know that since this plot unfolded,
over five million carats’ worth have
made their appearance — and that
means something like a billion dol-
lars.”

“Whew!” whistled the professor.
“Whew is right!” his companion
agreed. “And not only have the dia-
mond markets of the world been dis-
organized by this mysterious influx,
but the countries involved have lost
millions of dollars in revenue, due
to the fact that the gems have been
smuggled in without payment of
duty.”

“But surely, my dear fellow, you
don’t connect this gigantic plot with
your discovery of — whatever it is
you have discovered?”

“A diamond as big as a house!
That’s what I’ve discovered! And
I most surely do connect the pfot
with it. Did you ever have a hunch,

ASTOUNDING STORIES

Professor? Well, I had one — and
it’s worked out!”

“You leave me more 'in the dark
momentarily!” declared the older
man, glancing around as though to
giveil his words a double meaning.
“What was your hunch, and how
did it come to lead you here?”
Whereupon Stoddard told him,
swiftly, for there was no time to
lose.

W HEN first )assigned to the
case, he said, he had been
as baffled as anyone. But as he had
studied the problem, one outstand-
ing fact had given him the clue. All
the gem experts agreedjhat the mys-
terious flood of smuggled stones was
of Indian origin, being of the first
water and of remarkable fire — in
other words, of the finest transparen-
cy and brilliance.'

Therefore, since they were genu-
ine and were seemingly coming from
India, Stoddard had concentrated his
attention on this country, seeking
their exact source. Investigation
showed that there were no mines
within its borders capable of pro-
ducing anything like the quantity
that was inundating the market.

But — and here was where the
hunch came in — there was a district
in the Sikkim Himalayas of Bengal
whose capital was Darjeeling — Land
of the Diamond Thunderbolt. Why
had it been called that? Was there
some legend back of it?

There was, he had learned. For
though in modern times the phrase
had come to apply merely to the
Lama’s scepter, as Professor Pres-
cott had pointed out, originally it
had carried another meaning— for
legend said that once a diamond me-
teor had fallen on the mighty slopes
of Kinchinjunga.

That had been enough for Stod-
dard. He had followed his hunch,
had got himself attached to the
American Kinchinjunga expedi-
tion —

"And that’s why I'm here, and all
about it," he finished. “Now, then,
are you coming back with me and
have a look at my Diamond Thun-
derbolt, or am I going back alone?”
A long moment the professor de-
bated, before replying.

“Yes, I'll come with you,” he said
at length, extending his hand. “For-
give me, Jack. I didn’t know, or — “
“Forget it,” said Stoddard shak-
ing. “How the devil could you, till
I told you? But just one thing.
Hum’s the word — right?”

“Right!”

“And one thing more. It may be —
well, a one-way trip."

“Forget it.’’

“O. K„ Professor.”

With a last warm handclasp, leav-
ing them joined in a new bond of
friendship, the two men moved on
over that narrow moonlit ridge
across the top of the world. >

I T was a desperate trail. Professor
Prescott realized after scarcely a
dozen steps. The ridge grew nar-
rower, sheerer, and in places they
had to straddle it, legs dangling pre-
cariously to left and right.

Admiration for his gallant com-
- panion mounted in the professor’s
pounding heart, as they struggled
on. Only to picture anyone eager
to return such a perilous way, after
once getting safely back!

Other thoughts occupied his mind,
too, during the next half-hour. More
than once he could have sworn he
saw small, ghostly figures on the
ridge ahead. But he made no men-
tion of it, for Stoddard didn’t seem
to see them.

Now they gained the far end of
that hazardous ridge, where a slop-
ing shelf of jagged rock offered a
somewhat more secure footing.
Along this they proceeded laterally
for some distance.

Suddenly Stoddard paused and
called out:

“Ah — there we are I” He indi-

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

cated a steep pocket to the lift.
“Have a look down there. Profes-
sor, and tell me what you see.”

P RESCOTT lowered his eyes to
the depths below, to draw back
with a gasp— for what he saw was a
vast phosphorescent glow, like a
fallen star.

“What — what is it?” he cried, in
an awed voice.

And back came the ringing reply:
"The Diamond Thunderbolt I”
“But the radiance of the thing I
It couldn’t reflect that much light
from the moon I”

“No, and it doesn’t. But there’s
nothing uncanny about it. Just
what I expected the thing would
look like at night. But come on,
Professor. You haven't seen the
half of it I”

The way led down the jagged,
shelving slope, now, and the descent
was too precarious for further com-
ment.

Ten minutes passed — fifteen, pos-
ibly — when they reached a sheltered,
snowlesB arena where titanic forces
had clashed at some remote age.
Fragments of splintered rock lay
strewn in wild ' confusion — and
among them, glinting in the moon-
light, were bright crystals.

Picking up one, Stoddard said
laughingly :

"One of Mother Nature’s trinkets
worth half a million or so !’’
Professor Prescott blinked at it
a moment, almost in disbelief, then
stooped and picked up one for him-
self — a diamond that would have
made the Kohinoor look like a peb-
ble.

There was no doubting its genu-
ineness. Even in the moonlight, it
flashed and burned like a thing afire.

But as the professor turned his
eyes at last from its dazzling facets,
they failed him again— or so he
thought — for half hidden behind a
jutting crag loomed a huge cylin-
drical object, seemingly of metal.

F OR the space of two breaths, he
stared speechless, then gasped:
“Good Lord! What’s that?”
Following his gaze, Stoddard saw
it too.

“God knows!” he muttered, in a
tense voice. “It wasn’t there this
afternoon. Let’s have a look at it.”
Cautiously, not knowing what to
expect, they advanced toward the
singular phenomenon.

Nearing, they saw that it was a
mechanism some twenty feet at the
base and sixty or more feet high,
pointed at the top.

“A rocket!” declared Professor
Prescott. “Though I’ve never seen
anything larger than a laboratory
model, I’ll gamble that’s what it is.”
“And I’ll gamble you’re right !”
exclaimed Stoddard. "And one ca-
pable of carrying passengers, would
you say?”

“Fully.”

"Then I think we have solved the
mystery of how these diamonds reach
the market. The question now is,
who’s back of this thing? And since
our position here probably isn’t any
too healthy — ”

He broke off and drew his auto-
matic, as a small, ghostly figure ap-
peared — seemingly from nowhere.

The professor saw it, too — saw it
followed by another, and another —
and now he knew his eyesight had
not failed him back on that wind-
swept slope above, either, for these
were actual creatures, incredible as
they seemed.

The snow people?

He did not know — had no time to
find out — for with a rush, the strange
beings were all around them.

S TODDARD levelled his pistol
and called on them to halt, but
they came on— scores, hundreds now,
seeming to pour out of some unseen
aperture of the earth.

Once or twice he fired, over their
heads, but it failed to halt them.
.They closed in, jabbering shrilly.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

But though their words were a
babel, their actions were plain
enough. Swarming up, they over-
powered the explorers by sheer num-
bers, and herded them with jabs of
sharp, tiny knives toward a cavern
mouth that opened presently amid
those eery crags.

Led underground, they found
themselves proceeding along a froBty
passage lit ever yj few yards by a
great chunk of diamond. Their dim
glow seemed to be refracted from
some central point beyond.

This point they soon reached — a
great, vaulted chamber whose bril-
liance was at first dazzling.

Its source, after the first moment
or so, was obvious. It was coming
from the roof, which was one vast
diamond.

“You see where we are?” whis-
pered Stoddard. “Under the Dia-
mond Thunderbolt! These people
have tunneled beneath the meteor.
Or else—”

“Their tunnel was already there,
when the meteor fell,” finished Pro-
fessor Prescott. “But can it be pos-
sible such creatures could have pro-
duced that rocket?"

“I'm inclined to think anything is
possible, now I But I’m sorry I
dragged you into this. Professor.
I — ”

“Forget it I We’re here and we’ll
face it together, whatever it is.”

“You’re a game sport!” Stoddard
gripped the older man’s hand. “We’ll
face it — and lick it!"

Further talk was interrupted by a
stir among their captors. The ranks
parted — and into that dazzling cham-
ber stepped a tall, bearded personage
prhose aristocratic features and
haughty bearing suggested a Russian
of the old regime.

H E strode toward them, smiling
sardonically.

“Greetings, my friends! Nice of
you to drop in on me, while in the
neighborhood.” English was

suave, precise. “Professor Normas
Prescott, leader of the Americas
Kinchinjunga expedition, I believe.*
He paused and lifted inquiring ey*.
brows to his other guest. “And — ?*

“Dr. John Stoddard, our geolo-
gist," came the answer stiffly. “And
you, sir?”

“A fellow professor, you might
say. Prince Ivan Krassnov. You
have heard of me, perhaps?”

Prescott had indeed. One of Rus-
sia’s most brilliant and erratic scien-
tists under the czar, the man had
been permitted to continue his work
for the Soviets, developing among
other inventions, a rocket reported
to be capable of carrying passengers.
But some two years ago he and his
rocket had vanished in the course of
a test flight from Moscow, and the
natural conclusion was that he had
either perished in the sea or shot
off the earth altogether, since no
trace of the unique mechanism was
ever found.

“Yes, I have heard of you,” said
the professor, recalling this sensa-
tional story that had occupied the
front pages of the world's presB for
days. “And so it turns out that your
rocket didn’t come to grief.”

“Not exactly — though as you can
see, it landed me in rather an inac-
cessible spot,” was the reply. “But
quite an interesting one ! I was well
satisfied to let the papers report me
missing. You can understand, yes?”

“I think I can, that part of it."
While as for Stoddard, he was be-
ginning to understand a great deal.
“But these curious creatures?" be
said, indicating the whispering, pig-
my host that filled the cavern. *‘‘Yoo
found them here?"

“fT^HEY found me, rather!” cor-

X rected the prince. “But we
get on quite well together. They
consider me a god, you see, since t
too, came out of the sky in a thun-
derbolt, as their great diamond once
did, according to their legends.”

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

“But who are they? What is their
origin? Why are they so small, so
pale?"

' "Natural questions, Professor, but
not so easy to answer. Who they
are I cannot say, save that they are
the snow people of native supersti-
tion. Their origin? It is lost in
antiquity. Perhaps they are the
remnants of some Tibetan tribe
driven into the mountains by ene-
mies, thousands of years ago. While
as for their stature, their pallor —
these no doubt are the result of the
furtive underground life they lead.”
He paused, waited politely, as
though for further questions, but
neither spoke. Now that the main
mystery was solved, the one question
uppermost in both their minds was
what this suave, inscrutable noble-
man was going to do with them —
and that question neither cared to
ask, fearful of what the answer
might be.

F INALLY Prince Krassnov spoke
again.

“What, gentleman — you have no
further curiosity about me? How
unflattering ! I thought perhaps you
might want to know why I have
chosen to maintain my headquarters
here on Kinchinjunga, the past two
years, and how I have been occupy-
ing my time. But I hold no resent-
ment. I shall tell you, so that you
will be prepared for what I am going
to propose.”

He turned and addressed the pig-
my host in what must have been
their own tongue. Then, facing his
guests again, he said :

' “Now, come. Let us retire to my
private study, where we shall have
more leisure.”

They followed him from that daz-
zling chamber and proceeded on
down the cavern to a fork that ended
about twenty paces further in a mas-
sive steel-bound door.

There he paused and twirled a

knob like the dial of a safe. After
a moment there came a click, as of
tumblers meshing, and a tug on the
knob swung the door open.

The prince bowed.

“Step into my little apartment,"
he said.

They entered, to find themselves
in a large oblong room furnished in
Slavic luxury.

A S they crossed a rich Oriental
rug spread over the threshold,
a musical gong sounded somewhere,
and almost instantly two enormous
Cossacks sprang into view, to bar
their way with rifles.

“My bodyguard,” apologized
Krassnov, shutting the door. “They
are quite harmless, except to in-
truders. Just one of the little pre-
cautions that make life safer.”

He spoke to the men in Russian
and they withdrew.

Then he advanced to a divan beside
a teakwood table on which stood a
large copper samovar. Dropping
down, he motioned for them to take
seats beside him.

“You will have tea, my friends?
Or perhaps you would prefer
whiskey and soda?”

They chose the latter, since their
recent exertions seemed to have war-
ranted it, and their host tinkled a
silver bell, bringing a Chinese boy
beaming and salaaming.

A few words to him and the samo-
var was lit; then he hurried off on
padding feet, to return with miracu-
lous speed, bearing not only the
whiskey and soda but a platter
heaped with exotic cakes, cubed
sandwiches of caviar and spiced fish,
together with a profusion of other
delicacies— doubly welcome to men
who had toiled all day on a moun-
tain peak, with nothing but choco-
late to sustain them.

And while they drank and ate,
Prince Krassnov told his story — a
story whose very first words were

ASTOUNDING STORIES

al admission that he was the head of
the great ittg plot

Stoddard had act out to trace down.

r ' was a story as dramatic and
romantic as it was unscrupulous.
Finding himself and the crew of
the rocket marooned on the upper
slopes of this mighty mountain, in
the midst of an incalculable wealth,
he had set about at once to capitalize
their astounding discovery.

First he had made certain adjust-
ments in the mechanism of his appa-
ratus — which fortunately had not
been injured by its forced landing —
and then he had taken off with speci-
mens of the treasure, bringing the
craft down this time utfth precision
in the midst of his ancestral estates
near Baku, in the foothills of the
Caucasus Mountains.

This vast property the Bolsheviks
had not confiscated, partly because
of its remoteness, no doubt, and part-
ly because of the prince's services to
the Soviet Republic. At any rate,
it was here he had developed in se-
cret the details of his amazing plot —
a plot that had as its aim not only
his own enrichment but the rehabili-
tation of all the Russian nobles.

Once they had heard his story of
the Diamond Thunderbolt and seen
the specimens he showed them, many
had eagerly joined the plot, with the
result that an international ring had
been formed for disposal of the
gems.

His plans perfected. Prince Krass-
nov had then returned to Kinchin-
junga with his rocket, since when
the mysterious flood of those perfect
diamonds into the jewel markets of
the world had begun.

“So you see, my friends,” he
smiled, “that is what you Americans
would call my ‘little game’— a game
your chance discovery has rather
jeopardized, you must admit."

Professor Prescott could well rea-
lize this, but at a glance from Stod-
dard he declined to adrrit it.

“A very ingenious gamer he said.
“But where do the Lamas figure in
this? Surely they must know of the
presence of this meteor within their'
kingdom."

“No doubt they do," the prince
conceded. “That is why they are so
reluctant to have foreigners enter
their domain. At one time, I am
satisfied, they knew its exact loca-
tion and drew many of their own
gems from that source. But in re-
cent times the snow people have
guarded their secret well. The Lamas
are as terrified of them as the na-
tives — and with better reason I"

He did not mention what the
reason was, but there was something
ominous in his tone.

“ |i UT to get on with my story,

1 1 friends. I am not telling you
all this merely to satisfy your
curiosity. I have what you call ^
motive in my madness!"

Madness was right, thought Stod-
dard. The man was dangerously,
criminally mad.

“My motive is simply this,” he
went on. “You have chanced upon
my little nest-egg, and consequently
I have either to let you in on the
deal or — ”

Krassnov paused ; shrugged.

“But why talk of anything un-
pleasant, when there is wealth
enough here for all? What I pro-
pose, briefly, is that you join tne.“

They knew it was coming, but they
winced, nevertheless.

“Oh, don't be premature 1” he ex-
claimed, a little nettled. “Hear me
out. What is good enough for me
and my fellow nobles of Impend
Russia is surely good enough for
poor, under-paid professors of dem-
ocratic America. Listen, fiirnris I
am generous. Join me and ae will
make millionaires out of all of yon.
Every pmfrwoi in your . country
shall be a little car. It will be, to
use the old phrase, a triumph of the
intellect.**

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

Beyond a doubt, the man was mad;
yet his madness was vast, dizzying.
Though neither was tempted, they
were both rendered speechless for a
moment. It was like standing on a
mountain top and being shown the
countries and the glories of the
world — like standing on the top of
Kinchinjunga, thought Prescott.

“But you assume we are all Bol-
sheviks, like yourself, we profes-
sors," he said, struggling for calm
words.

“Bolsheviks I” snorted the prince.
“I spit on them I You think I, a
nobleman, am interested in the
masses? Cattle — swine 1 I plan only
for the day when we who are worthy
rule again, and this that I have told
you is my plan. You can, as you
Americans so coarsely say, either
take it or leave it.”

A TENSION hung in the air, as
his words echoed into silence.
The man had revealed himself.

“And suppose we leave it?" asked
the professor, restraining his irrita-
tion as best he could. “What then?”
“Then I am afraid — ah — unpleas-
ant consequences would result,” was
the bland answer. '‘Surely you rea-
lize that I could not let you and
young Dr. Stoddard rejoin your ex-
pedition with this story to report."
They realized it quite well.

“But suppose we agree not to re-
port it?” said Professor Prescott.

“Not to doubt your honesty of
intention,” replied Krassnov sharp-
ly, “I would refuse to accept such
an agreement.”

“Then I see nothing else but to
decline your kind proposal,” said
Stoddard, before the professor could
formulate further words. “What do
you propose to do — murder us?”
“Nothing so personal,” said the
prince, with his sardonic smile. “I
shall merely turn you over to my
little subjects. They no doubt will
deal with you as your merits war-
rant.”

Whereupon he pressed a button
under that elaborate teakwood table.
The musical gong they had heard
before sounded again, and the
prince’s two Cossack retainers re-
appeared.

He addressed them briefly in Rus-
sian, adding to his guests:

“Adieu, friends 1 If you change
your minds, you have only to speak.
You will be undenstood, and I shall
be gratified."

And without further words, they
were led from that ornate apart-
ment.

T AKEN back to the dazzling
chamber under the meteor, they
were turned over to the pigmies.

A powwow resulted, but it was
brief. The two captives were bound
fast in a curious ceremonial pit near
the center of the room. Then the
midget horde withdrew, leaving them
alone there under that eery glow.

“Now what the devil will be the
next step?" queried Stoddard, when
the last of the pigmies had gone.

Professor Prescott considered for
a moment, before replying.

“I don’t think there will be any
next step, except our cremation," he
said at length.

“Cremation?” gasped his young
friend. “What do you mean, crema-
tion?”

Another pause, then:

“Just this. Don’t you see where
we are? Right under the Thunder-
bolt! Well?”

“Well what?”

“Simple enough, Jack.” The pro-
fessor’s tone was grave. “When
dawn comes, and the rising sun
strikes that — ”

“Good God!” Stoddard suddenly
understood. “Why, we’ll be cooked
alive — frizzled!"

It was only too true. Even now,
the pale rays of the moon, concen-
trated by the myriad facets of that
monumental diamond, were begin-
ning to focus on them a warmth that

ASTOUNDING STORIES

was unco mf ortable. And kf morn-
ing— I

The two men crouched there si-
lent, realizing their desperate plight.
They must escape, before the sun
rose. But how?

S TUDYING their bonds, they dis-
covered that they were of raw-
hide of some sort, obviously from
the hides of animals these strange
people caught on the lower slopes
somewhere. But though they Etrained
and twisted, they could not stretch
them, the leather evidently having
been cured to a marvelous toughness
in these high altimdes.

Precious minutes ticked by as they
struggled there, but they were un-
able to extricate themselves.

But before the end of a half-hour,
Stoddard managed to free one arm,
and reaching into his jacket he drew
forth a small, compact metal object
— his cigarette lighter.

Twirling the wheel, while Profes-
sor Prescott held his breath, he suc-
ceeded in kindling a flame on its tiny
wick.

If only he could reach the thongs
with it! If only he could bum them
through and free himself and the
professor before any of the pigmies
re-entered that lethal chamber!

Wrenching around now, he applied
the flame to his left wrist, which was
still bound. As the living fire
touched his flesh, he winced with
pain, but almost anything was better
than the grisly fate that theatened.

Slowly, a little at a time, he en-
dured the torture, straining at each
application to see if the thongs
would yield.

“Here, let me try it once!" called
out Professor Prescott, as he cried
aloud with the agony of the ordeal.

“No, I’ll get it I" Stoddard gritted
his, teeth, continued. “There! I
think my hand is free!” He strug-
gled. “Yes. Now wait I"

Replacing his cigarette lighter in
his pocket, he drew his blistered

wrist from its smouldering bonds and
struggled feverishly now to undo the
lashes about his feet.

Five minutes of that and suddenly
he flung them ofF and stood up.

“Now! Now then. Professor. I'll
have you loose in a jiffy I”

Bending over his fettered com-
panion, he worked with frantic haste
to untie the rawhide bonds.

Another five minutes and they
were both free.

-PROFESSOR PRESCOTT stood
AT up and stretched.

“Thank God for small favors!** he
exclaimed. “But you, Jack? You
must be burned cruelly.”

“Forget it !” Stoddard was already
wrapping a handkerchief around his
wrist. “Now let’s see about getting
out of here. These little rats all
seem to be asleep, and Lord knows
where that maniac Krassnov is. Per-
haps we can make it. At any rate,
we'll give them a run for their
money!”

As he spoke, he drew bfs auto-
matic.

Silently, stealthily, they left that
glittering chamber and proceeded
down the cavern toward what seemed
to be the entrance, guided by their
remembrance of the way they had
come.

A hundred yards or more they
made, seeing no sign of their cap-
tors, when suddenly a musical gong
rang out.

“We've stepped on one of Krass-
nov’s infernal signals!” cried Stod-
dard, above the din. “Now there'll
be hell to pay I”

And “hell to pay” there was, al-
most instantly — for before they had
taken ten more steps, the cavera
ahead was full of small, ghostly fig-
ures, jabbering in their shrill voices.

Indifferent now of what he did,
their lives at stake, Stoddard biased
away with his automatic, sweeping
it from side to side of the stony
walls as he fired.

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

As the shots crashed out, the jab-
bers turned to shrieks o f terror. Sev-
eral of the pigmies fell. The. rest
broke their ranks and shrank into
the shadows.

“Run!” yelled Stoddard, slipping
a new clip into his pistol.

The professor needed no second
invitation. Gathering his long legs,
he sped after the younger man, and
together they burst from the mouth
of the cavern.

O UTSIDE, in the dazzle of moon-
light, they paused for an in-
stant.

“This way!” called Stoddard, rac-
ing toward that splintered arena.

They gained it and lunged across
it to the shelving slope that reached
upward to the narrow, perilous ridge
whence they had come.

As they proceeded, the pigmy
horde following with incredible
swiftness, Stoddard wheeled and
fired time and again — and now hiB
shots were answered by the reports
of rifles.

“Krassnov and his Cossacks!” he
muttered. “Well, we'll give them
our heels, unless they hit us.”

“And Russians are notoriously bad
shots, I understand," panted the pro-
fessor. •,

At any rate, they reached the slope
and struggled upward toward the
ridge, putting themkelves presently
out of range behind the jagged rocks
that loomed -on every side.

But just as they were congratulat-
ing themselves on their escape, came
a dull, reverberating explosion — and
as they clung to their insecure foot-
holds, a volcano of snow and ice rose
ahead. Thousands of tons of debris
avalanched into the chasm below.

S TUNNED, deafened, they looked
around.

Down in that pocket where the
Thunderbolt had so recently gleamed
was one vast chaos, and above, where
that razor-back ridge had led .

the intervening *•*— y-n to safety,
was a dazzling void.

To both came the same thought,
but Stoddard expressed it first.

“Krassnov — he's dynamited the
ridge!” he gasped.

“Then we — we’ll never get back
now!” echoed Professor Prescott.
“No, but they’ll never get us here I”
“Scant comfort, though, when
we're pinioned here like a couple of
birds with their wings dipped.”
“Right; but let’s see. Let's figure.
We’re better off than we were. And
what was it Napoleon once said :
'When you can’t retreat, advance.’
So suppose we — ”

“But listen!”

S TODDARD heard. It was the
sound of rifle shots. And look-
ing down, he saw a feverish activity
surrounding the rocket. Myriads of
the pigmies were swarming upon it,
while a handful of Cossacks were
holding them off.

“Something doing down there, all
right!” he muttered. “Looks to me
like — why, sure I’ve got it! That
madman has overshot himself, for
once! He's buried their precious
meteor, in blowing up our ridge, and
they’ve turned on him!”

“I think you’re right,” agreed Pro-
fessor Prescott. “Suppose we ad-
vance as you say. It looks like a
chance.”

“Right,” said Stoddard.

Slowly, cautiously, they returned
down the slope.

When within a hundred yards,
they knew they had sized up the
situation correctly. With frantic
speed, Krassnov was supervising the
shoveling out of his rocket from
amid the debris; was directing its
loading, while the free members of
his crew held off the enraged natives
who were obstructing them.

Descending even more cautiously
now, they neared the scene of ac-
tivity.

“My plan is this — to get aboard

'58

ASTOUNDING STORIES

and find out where they’re going I”
said Stoddard, through shut teeth.
"What do you say?”

“Lead on!” said the professor.

So they continued down, neared
the' resting-place of that strange
craft, and, under shelter of the moon-
light shadows, stole through the con-
fused ranks surrounding it and crept
aboard.

S TOWING themselves into the
i first likely niche that offered—
a narrow cubicle behind a flight of
metal stairs — they N waited, scarcely
daring to breathe for fear of being
discovered.

Fifteen minutes passed, a half-
hour, when suddenly sounded a rasp-:
ing of doors that told them the
rocket was being sealed.

Then came a roar, ~'hs of some
mighty blast beating down upon the
frozen earth, followed by a lifting,
rushing sensation — and they were
flung violently to the flooring.

The pressure ceased in a moment,
however, to be supplanted by a buoy-
ant, exhilarating sense of flight. It
increased, and they judged they must
be traveling at great speed.

Glancing at the luminous dial of
his watch, Professor Prescott saw
that it was a quarter to ten.

“Well, we’re off!” he whispered.
“And where, would you guess, are
we headed?”

“I wouldn’t guess,” Stoddard whis-
pered back. “From the way we’re
riding, it might be Mars I We must
be making hundreds of miles ant
hour.” I

“Or thousands! Who knows?”
They crouched there in their
cramped niche, scarcely even whis-
pering now, as the tense minutes
passed.

S UDDENLY the motion changed.
They seemed to be dropping.
Another moment or two, and
with a slight jar the rocket came
to rest.

“Well, we’re here, wherever it is,”
said Stoddard, stirring.

“Yes, undoubtedly,” the professor
agreed. “And the next move?”

“I think we’ll let them make that.”
They were not long in doing so.
There came the sound of doors rasp-
ing open, of footsteps echoing on
metal stairs and corridors. Once a
giant Cossack passed within four
feet of them. But at length, all was
silent within the rocket.

“Now, then, suppose we have a look
around,” said Stoddard, stepping out.

“Right,” agreed his companion,
following. “I’ll admit I am mildly
curious to know what corner of the
earth we’ve been transported to.”

They proceeded down the dim-lit
corridor the way they had come, de-
scended a flight of stairs and headed
along another corridor — to pause
suddenly and gasp with astonish-
ment. For through the door whence
they had entered the rocket poured a
flood of sunshine.

S TODDARD stared at it a mo- *
ment incredulously, and then
glanced at his watch.

“Ten o’clock, I make it!” he mut-
tered. “Am I crazy, or what?”

“No, I hardly think so,” smiled
Professor Prescott, recovering from
his own surprise. “It is merely that
we are in some part of the world
quite a few thousand miles removed
from India. Back on Kinchinjunga,
it is still ten o’clock at night, but
here, it is quite obviously daytime.”
“That must be the explanation,”
Stoddard agreed. “But it certainly
gave me a start at first !”

Approaching the door, followed by
the professor, he peered cautiously
out, to confront a- desolate stretch
of scrubby growth, hemmed in by
a background of rugged mountains.

“Now where the devil would you
say we are?” he demanded, gazfng
around perplexedly.

“Either in the United States or in
Mexico,” was the astonishing reply.

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

“But ham can you aa j that ?”
“BecaiMe it must be hoc place
approximately twelve hours distant
from India in time, to judge from
the sib. which is not far past the
meridian.”

“But why not Australia, for in-
stance?"

“Because Australia is too far. It
would be three o’clock tomorrow
morning there, since it is ten o’clock
last night now in India.”

S TODDARD pondered this a min-
ute, then admitted its correct-
ness.

“All right, then.. Assuming that
we are somewhere on the North
American continent, the nest thing
is to give Krassnov the slip; other-
wise it won’t be big enough for all
of us I”

And that Professor Prescott con-
ceded readily enough.

But before making any further
move, they looked over their sur-
roundings carefully, to satisfy them-
selves none of their late captors were
in view.

“They’re evidently somewhere on
the other side of the rocket,” Stod-
dard concluded at length. “So let's
make a break for it while we’ve got
the chance."

“Lead the way!” said the profes-
sor.

“O. K., here we go!”

And, stepping through the door,
they dropped to the ground and
raced off under the glare of the
burning sun toward the rugged
mountains that loomed ahead.

F OB a hundred yards or so they
were able to keep the rocket
bet w ee n themselves and the Russians
but soon the ground sloped up to
tnch an extent that they real iced
they must be in full view.

Dropping behind the scant shelter
el a straggly tree, they turned and
glanced down — and there, beyond the
tucket, they could now see a group

of men itaniiig around outside a
small wooden shack, shouting and
gesticulating in their direction.

“Damn it, they’ve seen us!" mut-
tered Stoddard.

“But why don’t they come after
us?” queried Professor Prescott.

The answer came even it he spoke,
for out of the shack rushed the tall
figure of the prince, in his hand a
pair of binoculars which he raised
to his eyes.

Whether or not be spotted them,
an instant later he turned and ut-
tered a command, and two huge Cos-
sacks sprang to the pursuit.

“There’s nothing to do now but
run for it !” cried Stoddard, leaping
to his feet.

The professor followed and they
plunged on up the slope, bullets
from their pursuers’ pistols and the
rifles of those below kicking up the
dust around them. But either be-
cause the aim was bad orthp targets
difficult, they escaped unscathed.

As for Stoddard, he wasted no
time in firing' back.

“Once we get in those mountains,
we’re safe !” he gasped, as they strug-
gled on. “How are you. Professor-
all right?”

“No holes in my skin so far!"
came the panting answer.

Five desperate, dodging minutes
passed.

Glancing over their shoulders, they
saw that the heavy, stolid Cossacks
were losing ground. And ahead,
tauntingly near now, loomed a thick-
ly-wooded slope that meant the be-
ginning of big timber — and safety.

Another five minutes— each second
an hour — and they had gained it.

B UT there was no pausing yet.

they could hear the
crashing on like determined blood-
hounds behind.

“No need to climb any more!" ex-
claimed Stoddard, half breathless.
“We’ll edge along, keep in the trees,
and try to throw them off."

ASTOUNDING STORIES

The older man said nothing ; mere-
ly gritted his teeth. This climb had
told on him more than anything he
had experienced on the cruel slopes
of Kinchinjunga.

As they struggled along now,
sometimes it seemed that they had
thrown their pursuers off the trail,
or completely outdistanced them, but
always a moment later they would
hear again the crunch of the Cos-
sacks’ boots on the day undergrowth.

So the grim flight continued, mile
after heart-tearing mile, and Stod-
dard was beginning to realize that
the professor couldn’t keep on much
longer — had just about decided to
stop and shoot it our^with their
pursuers — when suddenly there came
a sound that brought new hope to
him.

“Did you hear that?” he gasped,
pausing.

“It— sounded like— a car!” panted
his companion.

“Right. And that means there
must be a road through here some-
where I But where?”

"Listen.” Professor Prescott point-
ed to the left. “The sound seems
to be coming from over there.”

And sure enough, from the left
came a wheezing grind of a car mak-
ing a heavy grade.

“Near, too,” decided Stoddard.
“Come on — let’s go I We’ve got to
head it off. It's our only hope, ex-
cept — ”

With relief, he shoved his auto-
matic back into its holster and led
the way in the direction of the now
rapidly nearing car.

A HUNDRED yards they had
made, up a slight rise, when
there spread before them a rutted
mountain road, and on it, in full
view, was a laboring Ford of ancient
vintage.

Over the wheel hovered a lanky,
leathery native, and beside him sat
a small, plump woman who looked
as though Bhe might be his wife.

They were almost to the top of
the hill when Stoddard hailed them.

“Say!” he said. “Give us a ride,
will you? We’re lost.”

“Keep on, Henry!” he heard the
woman urge. “I don’t like the looks
of ’em.”

Americans! Well, thought Stod-
dard, they were in the United States,
anyway. That was something. And
he didn’t exactly blame the good
woman for her suspicions. They
must look pretty wild, at that, with
their two-day beards and tattered
clothes.

“Sorry,” spoke up Henry. “Missus
says no. She knows best. 'Sides, it
ain’t fur to Martin’s Bluff. You
kin make it in an hour.”

“But say, wait a minute!” They
were running along beside the
wheezing car now. "We’ve got to
get there in a hurry. We’ll pay you.”
Henry pricked up his ears, at this,
but his wife shook her head.

“Keep on !” she urged. “They may
be bandits!”

W HEREUPON Stoddard drew
his automatic, for there was
no more time to argue.

“Stop!” he commanded. “You’ll
take us, understand? I’ll pay you
well!”

“See, I was right!” screamed the
woman. “Bandits! Bandits! Oh,
Henry — save me I”

Wildly she clung to him, as Stod-
dard mounted the running-board, but
before he could make another move,
Professor Prescott gasped out:

"The Cossacks! Quick!”

And jumping down, he wheeled to
face the two leering Russians,' not
forty feet down the road. Pistols
levelled, they were advancing stolid-
ly-

Stoddard half raised his own
weapon, then turned to see if the
car was within range of the return
fire it would bring. It was — but not
for long.

With a furioi’s rhrttering of bands,

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

as Henry gave it the gas, the de-
crepit vehicle gained the top of the
hill and disappeared from view down
the far slope, and the last thing he
saw of it was a dusty plate flapping
under its tail-light.

It was a Texas license!

Then, turning back, he lifted his
automatic; but it was too late. The
Cossacks were on them_

In answer to a guttural command,
he dropped the weapon and raised
his hands, as the professor bad al-
ready done.

T WO hours later, they were back
at the rocket.

Led into the shack — which was
furnished inside like an Oriental
hunting-lodge — they were confront-
ed at once by Prince Krassnov.

Though his aristocratic features
were immobile, it was obvious that
he was in no amiable frame of mind.

"So, my friends!” he exclaimed.
"I leave you in India, and meet you
again in America, all within a mat-
ter of hours. It is but an example
of our modern progress, is it not?”
They made no reply.

"Ha! You are not sociable, after
enjoying my hospitality, my trans-
portation? Then suppose we— as
you Americans so quaintly say— call
a spade a spade! I gave you your
chance. You declined it. And what
is the result? My beautiful Dia-
mond Thunderbolt, my immeasurable
treasure, is buried forever.”
“Through no faujt of ours!” put
in Stoddard.

“But buried nevertheless, and my
adopted kingdom in revolt. Yet do
not think I mourn too much, my
friends. Though the game is what
you call up, my plans shall go on.
Here and elsewhere in the world,
where we have sub-headquarters, are
billions of dollars’ worth of dia-
monds— supplies for years ahead. We
■hall not suffer. But you — Professor
Prescott and Doctor Stoddard — I
have a very interesting fate in store

«t

for you. How would you care to
make a little scientific expedition to
Mars, say?”

"Mars?” gasped the professor.

“Yes, or Venus, or even Jupiter,
not to mention the moon ! , Or how
about the sun? That would be an
interesting sphere for exploration.”

“We don’t know what you’re talk-
ing about.” said Stoddard growing
nettled. “Why mince matters ? Call
a spade a spade, if you’re going to' r
What do you propose to do with
us, now that you have us in your
power?”

The prince paused, drew forth a
long Russian cigarette from an ex-
quisite platinum case.

“I propose," he smiled, when he
had lit it, “to turn over my rocket
to you, my fellow scientists, since
I shall have no further use for it
and it might be embarrassing to be
found with it in my possession."

And the way he proposed to turn
it over to them, as they had already
suspected, was to lock them in it and
fire it off into space.

W ITHIN the hour, the man's
diabolical plan had been put
into operation.

Led to the rocket, the luckless pair
were locked within a small metal
room somewhere within its recesses.
There sounded again the peculiar
rasping that told them its doors were
being sealed. And then came the
roar of that mighty exhaust beating
down.

There followed the lifting, rush-
ing sensation they had experienced
before, and again they were flung
violently to the flooring by the force
of the upward impulse.

When the pressure slacked, they
staggered to their feet and groped
around the dark, stuffy little room.

“Well, this is the end, I guess,"
sighed Professor Prescott. “I had
never thought,” witlj a grim attempt
at humor, “that I would meet quite
such a scientific fate as this!"

ASTOUNDING STORIES

"Nor had II” Stoddard agreed.
“But I’m not quite ready to cash in
my checks yet. The game isn’t over!"
He was pacing around the room,
knocking on the metal walls with
something that gave back a strident
ring. “Have you any idea what com-
position this stuff is?”

T HE professor rapped on one of
the panels ; felt of it.
“Aluminum, I would say.”
“Nothing so luckj?f If it were, I
could cut it like chfese. But du-
ralumin, probably, a very light,
strong alloy; and what I have here
is a hunting knife with a can-opener
on one end ! If I’m not mistaken,
we’ll be out of this sardine box be-
fore long."

Whereupon he applied himself to
the thin metal wall of their cell,
working determinedly, while Pro-
fessor Prescott held his cigarette
lighter for a torch.

“You see, duralumin yields to heat,
like aluminum,” he exclaimed, as
finally his knife thrust through.
“Now then, let’s get the can opener
working.”

The progress was slow but sure.
Within an hour, he had cut out a
Jagged section some two feet square,
through which they squeezed into
an equally dark corridor.

“Now then !” Stoddard’s mood was
exultant. “There must be switches
around here somewhere. There were
lights, I remember, so let's find them.
Once we get a little light on the
subject — ”

“Here!” called the professor, who
had groped down the corridor with
the cigarette lighter. “How’s that?”
As he pressed a switch, a row of
small bulbs glowed overhead.

“Fine I” was the answer. “Now
let’s see if we can find the engine-
room, or whatever they call it.”

J UBILANT now, they continued
on down the corridor, which ended
In a flight of stairs.

“I fancy it must be below,” said
Professor Prescott. “From what I
have seen of experimental models,
the propulsion impulse must origi-
nate from the base.”

So they descended the stairs, en-
tered another dark corridor, found
another switch and pressed it, and
thus they proceeded, lighting the
interior of the rocket as they went.
And as they descended, the roar of
the exhaust increased in volume, in-
dicating that they were nearing its
source.

Presently they entered a large,
circular room with an illuminated
dial at the far end. Drawing near,
they saw a confusion of instruments
that for a moment left them dazed.

While Stoddard studied them in
bewilderment, Prescott circled the
room till he found a switch. Press-
ing it, he produced a brilliant flood
of illumination.

“Now then, let me have a look at
this,” he said, returning to the dial.
“Professor Goddard once explained
to me the workings of one of his ex-
perimental models. The motive force
must be some liquefied mixture, pos-
sibly oxygen and hydrogen. Some
of these instruments — most of them,
in fact — must be valves.”

He touched one, turned it, and the
rocket responded with a sickening
burst of speed.

“No, that won’t do I We’re going
plenty fast enough now I”

He touched another, and they
slacked off dizzyingly.

“Well, there are two controls, any-
way. Now then, how do they steer
this thing? That is the next problem
we must solve.”

But though he touched this in-
strument and that, producing weird
effects, their course continued in the
direction set. And meanwhile, they
were hurtling outward through space
at a rate of speed he knew would
presently carry them beyond the
gravitational pull of the earth.

Then, as he grasped and swung

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

down a curious lever that worked in
a quadrant, they felt a violent lunge
to the left, and for a moment it
seemed they would shoot to the ceil-
ing.

“Good God I” gasped Stoddard.
“What’s happened?”

“Nothing— only that I’ve found
how to steer this wild steed I" cried
the professor, exultantly.

I T was really quite simple, he ex-
plained, as he eased up on the
lever. In application, it was a de-
velopment of the gyroscope prin-
ciple, that a wheel revolving freely
within a freely suspended frame
tends to make the frame revolve in
the other direction.

“You see, the rocket is the freely
suspended frame,” he went on, “while
this lever controls a gyroscopic
wheel somewhere. To set it spinning
to the right, causes us to turn to the
left, and vice versa.”

“But you almost stood us on our
heads, a moment ago ! How did that
happen?”

“Simply because I threw the lever
too far to the right. We are in
interstellar space, obviously, where
every change of direction involves
an adjustment of equilibrium.”

And if Stoddard didn’t exactly
understand, being first a secret ser-
vice man and only secondarily a
scientist, at least he showed his ig-
norance no further. If the professor
could bring this astounding machine
back to Earth, that was all he wanted.

Prescott said he could, he thought,
providing they had fuel enough left.
So for the next few minutes, while
the younger man held his breath, the
professor labored with the various
instruments on that complicated dial.

“Now then, I think we’re headed
back,” he said at length, relaxing.
“But we’ve got to have visibility,
otherwise we will land with a ve-
locity of about twenty thousand
miles an hour, which is what I figure
we’re making at the present time.”

“Good Lord I” gasped Stoddard.
“I’ll say we’ve got to have visibility!
Wait a minute I Let me look around !’’
He searched the room for further
instruments — to find nothing that in'
any way met the purpose.

But even as he returned dejected,
the professor cried out:

“Here— I’ve got it I Take a look
at this I”

Bending over a small table beside
the dial, Stoddard saw mirrored in its
ground-glass surface a hazy circular
panorama that at first had no sig-
nificance. But as he continued to
peer down upon the scene, certain
familiar aspects loomed out. It was
the Earth — and what he was looking
at was a view of the North and South
American continents!

F OR some moments Stoddard
stared at this amazing panorama
in silence; saw it grow rapidly
clearer, as the careening rocket
plunged like a giant shell toward the
earth.

“My God I” he whispered at length,
in awe. “Do you think you can
ever check our speed?”

“I think so,” the professor replied,
busy over his instruments. “But-
where do we want to land? How
do we know what state we were in?”
Whereupon Stoddard told him of
that Texas license plate.

“But we don’t want to land any-
where near that fiend Krassnov,” he
added, with a shudder. “I suggest,
if it's possible, that you pick out
some airdrome, preferably in the
western part of the state — for if I
remember my geography, Texas isn’t
mountainous in the east.”

“I will do the best I can,” said
Prescott, grimly.

There followed tense minutes as
the panorama in that ground-glass
narrowed and grew more intense. *
Now they could see only North
America, now only the United States
and a portion of Mexico, and now
only Texas.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

"Back — back!" cried Stoddard, as
the rugged land loomed up, spread
into a panorama of towns and ranch-
es. "We're descending too fast!
We’re bound to crash, unless — ”

But already the professor ' had
touched the ascending valve and
swung the steering lever.

Up they zoomed again. Once more
a portion of Mexico was visible on
the glass, and along the international
border now they could see a winding
thread of silver.

"The Rio Grande I” exclaimed the
young geologist. “Just follow it up
toward its source till we come to
El Paso. There’ll be a landing-field
there.”

“Yes, undoubtedly.” The professor
was working in abstraction over the
unfamiliar controls/ “Now if I can
just hold us on our course. . . .”

H E succeeded, and presently a
white city gleamed over th$
curving rim of the horizon to the
northwest, the tall chimneys of its
smelters throwing long shadows
from the lowering sun beyond.

In a minute or two they were over
it, at a height of perhaps twelve
miles — and now, as they began
descending, its patchwork of build-
ings and plazas unfolded like some
great quilt below.

"There’s the field !’’ cried Stoddard,
pointing in the glass to a wide clear
space on the outskirts. "Can you
make it, do you think?”

“We’ll know soon!’’ was the grim
answer, as Prescott worked franti-
cally now with his valves and levers.
"It’s a matter of balancing off our
flow of gases, of holding up buoy-
ancy to the very last. A little too
much, or not enough, and — ”
Breathlessly, as they descended,
Stoddard peered into the glass. Now
a scene of excitement was visible
below. Figures could be seen gazing
up, waving their arms, running about
this way and that.

"They must think they’re getting a

visit from another planet,” said
Stoddard. “Or that the end of the
world has cornel”

“Maybe it has, for ub!” agreed the
professor, gravely. “I’m afraid we’re
going to crash. I can’t seem to — ”
Whatever he was going to add was
lost in a sudden, rending concussion
that flung them violently down, and
plunged the room into darkness.

S TAGGERING to his feet a mo-
ment later, bruised and shaken,
Stoddard gasped out:

“Professor are you there? Are
you all right?”

A groan answered him, and for a
moment his heart sank, but then
came the reassuring call:

“Yes — all right, I guess. And you?”
"O.K. Let’s get out of here, quick!”
An ominous hissing sound beat on
their ears, as they groped their way
toward the door. Evidently escaping
gases from the deranged mechanism,
thought Stoddard. The floor rose at
an angle, indicating that the rocket
was half over on its side.

They found the door, and
struggled along the twisted corridor
toward a flight of Btairs that would
lead below; found it, descended, and
groped along another dark corridor,
seeking an exit; when suddenly,
around a bend, daylight confronted
them, and to their joy they saw that
one of the main doors had been burst
open by the impact.

Approaching it, they peered out—
to be greeted by an awed group of
officials and mechanics from the field.

As they climbed through, dropped
to the ground, the group retreated,
taking no chances.

“Back I" called ProfeBsor Prescott,
warning and reassuring them with a
word. Then, turning to his com-
panion: “Come on. Jack — run! Thii
thing is likely to explode at any
moment.”

Following this advice, Stoddard
raced from the rocket with the rest
At a Bafe distance, he turned and

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

peered back — to see it standing there
at a crazy angle, dust and fumes
issuing from under it in a blast that
to s hollowing a deep crater to the
far side.

Even as they looked, the strange
craft quivered, tottered, and fell over
on its side, and the next instanj was
enveloped in a blinding sheet of
flame that brought with it a dull de-
tonation and a blast of dazing heat.

The party backed still farther
away.

“A nasty mixture, oxygen and
hydrogen,” muttered the professor,
feeling of his singed eyebrows.
“We got out of there just in time.
Jack.”

"I’ll say we did I” Stoddard agreed,
with a shudder.

B Y now the higher officials of the
field were on the scene, among
them a number of Army men.

Curiosity ran high, not unmingled
with indignation. Who were these
Btrange visitors? Where had they
come from? What did they mean by
endangering the lives of everyone,
with their damned contraption?

Inquiring for the commandant,
they were taken to him — Major Clark
Hendricks, U.S.A. — and Stoddard
briefly outlined their astounding
story, 'producing credentials, where-
upon a squadron of fast military
planes was assembled.

From the way they described the
mountainous region where the rocket
had first landed, mentioning the
town Martin's Bluff, that Henry of
the ancient Ford had named, the
Inajor declared that it must have been
the Guadalupe Mountains a hundred
miles to the east — and Bure enough,
a government map showed such a
town there. ~

So it was that presently the squad-
ron lifted into the late afternoon
skies, with Major Hendricks in the
leading plane, accompanied by the
two weary adventurers.

Swiftly the squadron winged east-

ward. They reached the mountains
in less than an hour, and circled them
in search of that little wooden shack
which Prince Krassnov and his Cos-
sacks had made their rendezvous. . . .

I T was like finding a needle in a
haystack, and for a time Stoddard
despaired of success. But those
rugged mountains were an open book
to the planes circling high overhead,
and with Martin’s Bluff once lo-
cated, the rest was not so hard.

At last, as twilight was falling,
they found the shack and brought
their planes to rest near it.

But as the party approached the
shack, after posting a heavy guard
over their planes, they saw that it
was deserted.

This, after all, was only what Stod-
dard had feared, but nevertheless
they forced their way inside — and
there, had Major Hendricks had any
doubt of their story, it was dispelled.

As Stoddard had told them, it was
furnished like an Oriental hunting-
lodge, with evidences of the recent
occupation of the Russians on all
sides.

But where were they? Had they
got away or were they hiding some-
where?

Proceeding from room to room un-
til they had searched it thoroughly,
the party paused baffled.

But not for long, for suddenly
Stoddard discovered something that
gave him a clue. It was a barred
door, within a closet, covered over
with clothes and uniforms so as to
be fairly well concealed. On batter-
ing it in, they found that it led into
a passage below.

A S the party entered the passage,
leaving further guards above, it
became obvious that what they had
found was the shaft of an old mine.

It led down abruptly, for a while,
then more gradually, with many
windings and twistings, and ending
presently in another barred door.

«6

ASTOUNDING STORIES

This they in torn battered in — to
be greeted suddenly by a volley of
rifle-fire that dropped three of them
in their tracks.

Stoddard waa one of those who fell.

Bending over him, Professor Pres-
cott lifted up his head.

“Jack !” he called. “Where are you
hit? Answer me!”

“I — it seems to be in the shoulder,”
came the weak reply. “If you’ve got
a handkerchief — ”

The professor produced one and
staunched the flow of blood as best
he could, working with the aid of his
flashlight.

Meanwhile, ahead, the crash of
pistols and riflesjcontinued to split
the stillness of the passage, as the
attacking party pressed forward.

"There— that does it!” gasped
Stoddard, at length. “Help me up.
I’ll be all right.”

Prescott steadied film to his feet.
They continued on.

N OW the firing ceased, and in a
moment Major Hendricks ap-
peared, at the head of his party.

“Well, we’ve got them,” he said,
saluting Stoddard. "How are you, old
man?”

"All right,” was the gritted reply.
“Let’s have a look at them.”

A flashlight was swept across the
stolid group of Cossack prisoners,
but as Stoddard peered into one face
after another, he realized that Krass-
nov was not among them.

“You haven’t got the leader,” he
said. “See here, you birds,” he
addressed the Cossacks, “where is he,
eh?”

If they understood, they gave no
indication of it, but shook their heads
sullenly.

"Well, damn it, we’ll find him!”
Stoddard wheeled and strode past
them. “Give me three or four men,
Major. I’ll smoke out that Russian
bear. He must be here somewhere.”
Hendricks Bent the main body
above, with their prisoners, and gave

him the men he wanted, putting faias-
self at their head.

“You’d better go an up toe. Pro-
fessor," said Stoddard, addressing
Prescott. “You’ve risked enough, ia
my behalf.”

But the older man shook his head.
“No, I’ll come along, if you don't
mind,” he insisted. “I want to see
the end of this thing.”

r ’ was an end that came with
dramatic suddenness.

Pausing before a barred door some
fifty paces down the passage, they
were debating what their neat move
would be — when suddenly it wm
flung open.

“Come in, gentlemen,” came a
suave, ironical voice. “Sorry my ser-
vants were so uncivil.”

In the glare of light from beyond,
Stoddard and the professor saw thm
it was Prince Iffassnov.

He stood there unarmed, smiling.
“Is this the fellow?" rasped Majar
Hendricks, his automatic levelled.
“It is,” said Stoddard.

Slowly, cautiously, they followed
the man into the room, which a
reality was merely the end of the
passage sealed off, though its walls
were richly panelled and it wa
luxuriously furnished.

Pausing beside a small, heavy table,
he swept his hand over it, indicating
a heap of rough diamonds that murt
have represented millions.

“Merely a fraction of my treasure,
gentlemen,” he told them, with t
deprecating shrug. “I hadn’t quits
finished storing away the last ship-
ment, when you interrupted me.”
He strode to one of the walls, dreer
out a small drawer from a built-ie
cabinet and dumped its glittering
contents on the table with the rent
All around the room, Stoddard
noted as he stood there swaying,
were other cabinets dotted with tbs
knobs of similar drawers.

“And this, gentlemen, is bit my
American sub-headquarters,” the

THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT

Prince went on. “In Siberia, in
Brazil — but why bore you with the
multiplication of my now useless
wealth? Tell me, instead, my good
friends — Professor Prescott, Doctor
Stoddard — how come you back here,
after I saw you safely on your way
earlier in the afternoon?”

“Because I happen to have a knack
with can-openers, and my colleague
is rather adept with machinery,"
Stoddard told him, “while Major
Hendricks here is quite a hand with
geography, not to mention aviation.”

A QUESTION or two, which they
answered briefly, and Krassnov
had the story.

“Ah, my poor rocket I” he sighed.
“But it is fate, I suppose; Kismet,
as the Turkish say. Still, I deserved
a better fate than to be captured by
a pair of American professors, when
the secret service of the world was
on my trail.

“Then cheer up I” said Stoddard,
gritting his teeth to keep back the
pain of his throbbing shoulder.
“For I have the honor to represent
Washington in this case."

At that, the prince scowled darkly
for a moment. Then he brightened.
“Kismet again ! I might have acted

differently, had I know that, but—
well, I drink to your success. Doctor
Stoddard I”

Whereupon, before they could re-
strain him, he lifted a vial from a
shelf over one of the cabinets and
downed its contents.

“A diamond-dust cocktail!” he
smiled, replacing the vial. “The
most expensive, even in your country
of costly drinks — and the most
deadly!”

But Stoddard knew, as the doomed
nobleman stood there facing them in
stoic triumph, that diamond-dust in
the human system was as slow as it
was deadly, and that the desperate
gesture had been futile, so far as
justice was concerned.

There would be ample time, in the
weeks Prince Krassnov of Imperial
Russia still lived, to round up his
international allies and stamp out the
remnants of their amazing ring of
diamond smugglers.

While as for Professor Prescott,
he was thinking with what amaze-
ment the members of his expedition
back on Kinchinjunga would re-
ceive the cablegram he would dis-
patch that night, informing them
that Stoddard and himself were safe
in El Paso, Texas.

Statement of tbe ownership, minuanent, circulation, eto., required by the Act of Con g r e ss of August 24. 1012,

f appeared W. M. Clayton, who,

now Manager of the Ajioundlng

e statement of the ownership. manage*

«« oi .'tew x ora, Loumy oi wc* vara, n.:

Before me. a Notary Public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally
having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that be Is the Hus Ini

Stories and that the following is, to tbe best of his knowledge and belief, a true slate _ ...

~U (and If a dally paper, the circulation) , etc., of tbe aforoald publication for tbe date shown In the above caption,
red by the Act of August 24, 1012, on bodied in section 411. Pcetal Lawn and Regulations, printed on the re-
wam, of tbls form, to wit:

l That tbe names and addresses of the pub lls bo-, editor, managing editor, and bualnem managers are: Publisher.
Tlie Clayton Magazines. Inc,. SO Lafayette St.. New York. N. Y.: Editor, Marry Bata. 80 Lafayette St . New York.
N. Y ^Managing Editor, none: Businas Manager, W. M. Clayton, 80 Lafayette Bt.. New York. N. Y.

2. That tbe owner Is: (if owned by a corporation. Its name and address must be stated and also Immediately ihere-
imder the names and addresses of stockholders owning or holding one per cent or more of total amount of stock. II
■ot owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of the Individual o wners must be riven. If owned by a Orm,
Onpany. or other unincorporated con ami, He name and address, aa well ae these of cadi individual membw. mist
be given.) The Clarion Magazines. Ine., do Lafayette 8*.. New York. N, Y. Stockholders: W. M. Clayton, BO La-
fayette 8t.. New York. N. Y .: Nathan Cold man n. 80 Lafayette Bt.. New York. N. Y.

a. That tbe known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or bolding 1 per sot or more of
ttal amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securHlm are: (If there are none, m state. 1 None.

" *• ' riving the names of the owners, stockholders, and scout...

id security hold os as they appear upon tbe books of the company but also.

^ . — — — ... _._. w bold o’ appesn upon the books of the company aa trustee or In anr other

poueiary relation , the name of the paeon or oorpormilon for whom such trustee is acting, is Iven: also that the mid
two paragraphs contain statements anbremng affiant's full knowledge and belief aa to the dreumstsnom and oon-
jpOona under which stockholders and security bold os who do not appear upon the books of the company as trustees,
hold nock and securlUo In a mpadty other than that of a bona fide owner, and this affiant bas no reason to believe

i where the stockholder or security t

that any otha paeon, association, or' corporation has any Intoest dirat or indirect in tbe mhl stock! bonds! or other
■seuiltlew than as so stated by him .

S. That the a range number of copies ot each imne of this publication sold or distributed, through the made or
•thowtoe. to paid sonaeribos daring the eU ■»<■»«>>■ preceding the date shown above Is: (This information is required
non dally publlmilone only.)

W. M. CLAYTON.

inl an d yibscrtbcd before me this 31st day of March. 1031. Kenneth T. Rond. (My eommlarioo explrm March

30. 1032.)

bached into the room.

By A. R. Holme s

Space

visitant had
all sensation*
full day of vaca-
cold Adirondack

r— ~ — — i..-, >EU m.u E a... u .. E which they were

on the ground by their campfire camping for that month.

waiting, hoping They had

that it would Three kidnaped Earthlings show Xantra discussed the

return once of the Tillas how “docile” Earth slaves app earan ce UO-

more. Their in- c>n be ' til there wai

THE SLAVE SHIP FROM SPACE

69 .

nothing more they could say; and
now, as for the last hour, they
watched in silence, only moving to
knock the dottle from their pipes
and to get fresh lights off the
splinters they stuck into their slum-
bering fire. The velvet night was
now at full reign, and the myriad
stars in their familiar patterns leaned
close — brilliant jewels for man to
share but never pluck.

Jim Wilson had seen the thing
first — a pinpoint of cherry red that
moved upward in a perfect arc
against the brilliant white constella-
tions of the east. As it rose, it grew
perceptibly larger, to dwindle again
as it arced over the western horizon.

Nearly an hour later it had ap-
peared again; but this time, when
halfway up the skies, it had changed
its direction until it was heading
directly over the spot where the two
thrilled campers were watching ; and
as it approached they saw its color
fade slowly until it had disappeared
completely from sight among the
inky patches between the stars over-
head. For minutes > the two were not
able to locate it — until Jim, once
again, had pointed to a faint red
spot that grew in color and intensity
as it drew away from the zenith.
Once again it had disappeared over
the rim of the western world — and
from then on there was no thought
of sleep in the minds of Jim Wilson
and Clee Partridge. They were
watching the skies, hoping it would
return.

"What was the thing?” Jim Wil-
son exclaimed suddenly with exas-
peration. “I've been racking my
brain, Clee, but nothing I can think
of makes sense. It couldn’t have
been a plane, and it couldn’t have
been a meteor. And if it was a fire-
fly — well, then I’m one too.” He
paused, and looked at the other.
“Any new suggestions?” he asked.

"Me — I still think it was a space
ship from Mars or Venus,” Clee
Partridge answered drily; “search-

ing for a couple of good Earth-men
to help ’em out of some jam. You
noticed the way it disappeared for
a moment when it was overhead: it
was looking us over.”

“Then it’ll be back,” answered
Jim, not to be outdone, “for it's not
apt to find anyone better qualified.
I, myself, would kinda like to take
a joy-ride out through the Great
Dipper.”

C LEE smiled and looked down at
the luminous dial of his wrist
watch. The two resumed their vigil,
and there was quietness between
them. For some time they lost
themselves in the sparkling glory
of the firmament, hardly moving,
except to pull closer the collars of
their flannel shirts against the in-
creasing coldness of the mountain
air.

And then for the third time that
night the mysterious sky traveler
sprang over the trees on the eastern
horizon. Suddenly it appeared; both
men saw it at once; and this time
it made a clear, beautiful arc straight
for the zenith. As it raised, it grew
in size, a beautiful, delicate cherry
star spanning the whole welkin. The
two men got to their knees and
watched it, breathless with fascina-
tion.

“Look!” cried Jim suddenly.

As had happened on its second ap-
pearance, the thing began to slow up
and its color gradually faded as it
drew directly overhead. By the time
it should have reached the zenith it
could no longer be seen. It had dis-
solved against the inky spaces above.

“It should come into view again
in a moment,” Clee said; “a little
farther on, like the other time.”
They watched, thrilled by the
mystery of the midnight phenome-
non. Minutes passed, but still it did
not appear. Clee grew restive, and
as his eyes chanced on his wrist
watch he started violently and held
out his arm for Jim to see. The

ASTOUNDING STORIES

radium-painted hands and dial were
glowing with unusual brilliance.

Looking quickly into the skies
again, Clee sensed something
wrong; something different. For a
moment he conld not figure out what
— and then it came to him. One of
the great stars, one that he had been
watching in its climb up the sky
through the night, had disappeared!

H E got ' excitedly to his feet,
grabbed his companion’s arm
and pointed out this strange thing—
and as he pointed another star
blinked out and did not reappear.

“Something’s happening up there,"
Jim said soberly. "I don’t know
what ; but I, for one, don’t feel quite
comfortable.”

He kept peering at the place
pointed out, at a spot of black even
darker than the inky sky; or did he
only imagine it was darker? he asked
himself. Soon theyspot enlarged ; be-
came a distinct patch ; then, growing
still, obliterated one star afteT an-
other around its borders. It made a
pure circle; and before long the
starlight glinting off its sides
showed it to be a great, tinted
sphere.

Swiftly it dropped down on the
two men, and they watched it hyp-
notized, incapable of moving. It was
only a hundred yards overhead when
some presence of mind returned to
Clee.

“Run, Jim!” he yelled, moving
away. “It’s coming straight down!”
Wilson came out of his daze and
the two sprinted wildly for the path
that led down the spur on which
their camp was located. They had
not made more than fifty yards when
they heard a dull thud, and, turning,
saw the great sphere resting on the
ground with a slight rocking mo-
tion that quickly ceased.

A gully cut into the trail ahead,
and when they reached it Clee
grabbed bis partner’s arm and pulled
him off to one side, where, panting

with their sudden exertion, they
wormed up to the brow and peeped
over at their strange visitor.

T HE sphere qtood in the starlight
on the very spot they had been
occupying when they first saw it.
Right in their campfire it lay — a
great, dark-red crystal shape perhaps
fifty feet in diameter, whose surface
sparkled with innumerable facets. It
rested quietly on the ground, as if
oblivious of the two routed men
breathlessly watching it from a short
distance. No ports or variations of
any kind were visible to mar its star-
reflecting sides.

“It must be some new kind of
dirigible!” murmured Jim; “but why
did it go and pick on us for its mid-
night call!”

“It’s a space ship from liars,” an-
swered Clee with a serious face.
“They heard you, and’re coming to
take you for your ride. See?” he
added quickly, pointing.

A large door was opening in the°
side of the sphere, and the illumina-
tion within threw a bright beam of
amber-colored light in their direc-
tion. A metallic ramp slid out and
angled down to the ground.

Breathlessly the two men waited
to see who would emerge, but a long
time went by without their catching
the slightest sign of life within. The
face of Clee’s wrist watch was fluor-
escing brilliantly now, and moment
by moment the weird glow was in-(
creasing. Jim stirred nervously. *
“I don’t mind telling you. I’m
scared," he said-

“Aw, they won’t make you walk
back," consoled Clee; but he was
scared himself. Why didn’t some-
thing happen? jWhy didn’t someone
come out of the ship?

Jim thought he hpard a noise, and
touched Clee on the shoulder, point-
ing to a place on the trail down
which they had come a few minutes
before. Clee looked, and an he dM
so the hair on the back of his neck

THE SLAVE SHIP FROM SPACE

itood up. For the bushes along the
tide of the path were moving as if
they were being brushed aside by
someone in passing — someone mak-
ing a straight line to the spot where
they lay concealed. And no one was
there!

“Can they be invisible?" breathed
Jim, every pore in his body prick-
ling.

F OR a moment the two men
could hardly breathe, so great
was their unnamed fear. During that
time no other movements could be
noted. Then Clee suddenly pointed
to a bush only five yards away. Half
a dozen leaf-tipped branches were
bending slowly in their direction —
tnd then a sharp crack, as of a
broken twig, came to them from the
tame spot.

Panic, blind and unreasoning,
•wept them. “Run!” gasped Jim;
tnd together, instinctively, they
turned and scrambled down the side
of the ridge to get away, anywhere,
far from the approaching menace of
they knew not what. Reckless of
possible injury, they slid and stum-
bled down the brush-covered slope —
and right behind them came sudden
crashing sounds of pursuit.

New fears lent wings to their
flight, but the sounds behind cc i-
tinued inexorably at their heels no
matter how fast they ran or how
lucky they were in making past ob-
itacles. Their pursuer was as fast
■a they. They had no idea who— or
what — it might be, for in the brief
glances they snatched over their
•boulders they could not see any-
thing at all !

The going was bad, and the two
campers had not gone more than a
quarter-mile when they were breath-
ing hard, and felt that they could
not make one more step without col-
lapsing on the ground to give their
laboring lungs a chance to catch up.
Panting like dogs they dragged
themselves along through pine and

birch trees, around large rocks and
over briar-covered hills, only a few
steps ahead of their pursuer.

Then Partridge, a little in the lead
as they made their way up a steep
slope, heard Jim suddenly . go
sprawling; heard him gasp:

“It’s got me!”

T URNING, he saw his partner
rolling and threshing violently
on the ground, and now and then
lashing out at the empty air with
his fists. Without a moment’s hesi-
tation he jumped from his position
above — jumped square and hard into
the space which Jim’s invisible as-
sailant should be occupying. With a
great thud he crashed into some un-
seen body in the air, and went down,
the breath knocked out of him. As
he got to his knees an odor like that
of cloves came to his nostrils, and
something caught him around the
neck and began constricting. Fran-
tically he tried to tear himself
loose, but the harder he struggled
the more strangling became the grip
on his neck; and at last, faint from
the growing odor and the lack df
air, his efforts dwindled into a spas-
modic tightening and relaxing of the
muscles.

Then, for a moment, the hold on
his neck must have loosened, for he
found himself able to breathe a lit-
tle. Turning, he saw Jim at his side,
apparently similarly held.

“If I could only — see it!” Clee
managed to get out. Jim’s spas-
modic, bitter answer came a moment
later.

“Being invisible — tremendous ad-
vantage!” he gasped.

In desperation the two men again
began to fight against the clutches
that were holding them, and this
time the grip about their necks un-
expectedly loosened — to bring to
their noses the odor of cloves over-
powering in strength. And that was
all they knew before they lapsed into
a black and bottomless void. . . .

ASTOUNDING STORIES

T HROUGH the lifting haze of
returning consciousness Clee
felt a command to get Up. As he
automatically complied he saw that
Jim was doing likewise. Once on his
feet he felt another impulse to go to
the cherry-crystal sphere, visible in
the distance; but his legs were weak,
and neither he nor Jim could walk
very well until out of the nothing-
ness around them came something
of invisible bulk to lend them sup-
port. )

Slowly, carefully,' straight for the
waiting globe the two men were con-
ducted; and in his state of half-
consciousness Clee wondered at the
impotence of his will to make his
body offer resistance. "They passed
right by their tent and up the ramp
to the inside of the strange sphere.

Clee’s impressions were blurred
and dull, but he noticed that they
were in a small room brilliant with
amber light, on one wall of which
there was a circular area which con-
tained a dozen or more instruments
and levers and wheels. As his eyes
rested on them, one of the levers
moved, seemingly of itself, and the
ramp came sliding into the ship and
the thick door slowly swung closed.
Then they were conducted along a
short, narrow passageway into which
opened, on the right, a small dim
room; and there the grip about their
bodies loosened and they slumped to
the floor. The door whereby they
had entered, closed.

A faint vibration became notice-
able; they suddenly felt very heavy;
and to the accompaniment of a low
but rising hum they saw one wall of
their room begin to glow with a
beautiful cherry color. Although
they had been too stupefied to try
to speak, this spurred their tired
bodies, andthey dragged themselves
over to it. They found the wall to
be of some kind of hard crystal ; it
was the outer shell of the sphere;
and it now glenmed redly trans-
parent.

F AR out and down the men saw
a great concave surface oa
which lay narrow ribbons of silver,
winding veinlike through dark arm
that were in some places lit by lit-
tle clusters of twinkling lights. As
they watched, the distances on ths
surface shrank in on themselves;
they Could see the outline of a grm
circle. The sight stimulated the ex-
hausted men. In a hushed and awe-
struck voice, Jim Wilson broke the
silence.

“We’ve been kidnaped.” he said.
“Being taken God knows where, oet
among the stars. . . .”

He was getting the sky-ride he
had asked for.

Clee smiled faintly, and was going
to remind him of this; but he ww
too tired to make the effort. He only
looked at the tremendous scene be-
low ; at the Earth they knew so well,
with its familiar streets, comfortable
fireplaces, the faces of those they
loved and those others who were
their friends.

The Earth soon became a ball— s
globe such as he had used at school,
showing clearly the outline of ths
continents and oceans. And little by
little it dwindle*], until it was only
a ghostly shape far out in nothing-
ness. . . .

A little later, had the two Earth-
lings not been deep in sleep, they
might have seen enter a strange-
looking man clad in odd garments—
a man whose great, bulging head
was quite bald, and whose wrinkled^
leprous-white face wore an expres-
sion of unutterable wisdom and
majesty. In his hands he carried a
strange piece of apparatus which he
held to Jim’s wrist while it emitted
a coarse vibratory hum that whined
slowly up in pitch until it passed
the range of hearing. He did the
same thing to Clee, and then he
quietly left.

But the two Earthlings knew noth-
ing of this. Limp on the floor, ob-
livious to everything, they slept. . . .

THE SLAVE SHIP PROM SPACE

S OME hours later found the kid-
naped men well recovered and
sitting on the floor of their cell talk-
ing over their situation. As usual,
Wilson was thinking out loud.

“What can they be?— or who?” he
asked, frowning with his thought.
“They can’t be from Earth, for no
one there could invent such a ship
as this and keep it a secret ; and even
if someone had, he could never have
done the equally astounding thing of
inventing a way to render living
bodies invisible. I doubt if the thing
that caught us was human, by what I
was able to feel in my short strug-
gle with it. There was something
that might have been a hand ; but the
strength and the weight of its body
was enormous I”

“Well, we’ll probably soon see,”
commented Clee with philosophic
resignation and pulling out of a hip
pocket a package of tobacco and his
corn-cob pipe. “Or, rather, we may
soon know. Our captors may keep
themselves invisible; and of course
it’s barely possible that it’s their
natural state to be invisible, so that
we may never hope to see them.
What I’m chiefly afraid of, is that
they are from some other planet, and
that that’s where we are being taken
— though heaven knows what any
creatures so infinitely far ahead of
us Earthlings scientifically could
want with a pair of young Earth
lawyers!”

He offered the package to Jim.
“Here, have a smoke; you'll feel bet-
ter,” he said. “While there’s to-
bacco there’s hope.”

"At least they don't seem disposed
to kill us right off,” returned Jim,
handing back the tobacco after light-
ing his own pipe. “Later — if there’s
to be any ‘later* for us — we may be
able to find a way to get out of this
room ; though how we’d run the ship,
to get back home, is another hard
brick wall. . . Maybe the controls

are invisible, too!” he suggested
with a wry grin. “Ever take any

pre-law courses on how to work the
invisible controls of a space ship?”

C LEE’S reply was spoken low.
and was entirely irrelevant.
"That’s funny,” he said.

He was looking at the face of the
watch on his left wrist. For the first
time since they had been abducted,
its abnormal brightness had left it.

As Jim watched, inquiringly, Clee
moved his right hand a little, and
once more the dial leaped out
through the dimness with unnatural
brilliance. Jim saw that his friend
was holding in this hand the package
of tobacco. Clee repeated the dem-
onstration.

"The dial glows with unusual
brightness always— except when I
hold the package of tobacco in front
of it at this spot,” he said wonder-
ingly, half to himself. “If I remem-
ber my science right, ultra-violet
light would make the radium on the
dial glow; and the lead in the tin-
foil of the tobacco wrapping would
screen it off. Let’s see — ”

He crossed to the other side of the
room and held his watch and the
package of tobacco in various posi-
tions until he again found one line
along which the watch-dial gave off
only its customary light.

“Yes,” he said, “—exactly in the
extended line made by my watch and
this package of tobacco is the source
of the ray which makes the watch-
dial glow. It’s probably the control
room of this ship.”

“An extraordinary deduction, my
dear Sherlock,” commented Wilson
drily; “and valuable. I wish you’d
now take a moment and deduce the
reason for the mysterious appear-
ance of the lumps on the back of our
necks. I know I didn't have mine
before I was taken for this sky-
ride.”

A S he spoke, his hand sought the
bock of his neck where there
was a flat lump about the size of a

ASTOUNDING STORIES

quarter — a lump not painful, for all thought. “The door’s lockedl We
Its newness and size. Hard pushing tried it I" He looked at Partridge,
with probing fingers had revealed who returned his gaze blankly — and
something that seemed to be hard then, in spite of what he had said,
and flat, buried within ; but close he reached out and turned the latch,
examinations failed to show any The door swung open I
wound or scar, and the men had no Expressions of surprise died on
notion what the lumps might be. the men’s lips as again came the
Clee’s was just like Jim’s. compelling urge to go to some un-

But Clee did not respond to his known destination,
friend’s invitation. A heavy mood "Suggestion I” 6aid Clee, as he
had come over him; he was standing passed through the doorway. “Some-
by the outer wall, looking out. Jim one’s suggesting — telepathically
went and stood beside Jlim, his hand willing — that we come to him I And
on his shoulder, and together they I — God help me — I can’t resiGt I”
gazed through the cherry-crystal His neck corded with veins and
wall of their prison ship out on the muscles with his effort to restrain
loneliness of the immeasurable miles his body from obeying the mysteri-
outside. For them, space w?s red, in- ous command that was drawing it
stead of the deep black they knew onward. Wilson, one arm out-
they would see through- colorless stretched in a repelling gesture, his
glass. Brilliant pinpoints of light, legs stiff and tight, was also trying
millions of them, in all sizes, made to resist. But the will that had
up the infinite space that was the sounded within them was stronger
background of their adventure. than theirs, and slowly, inevitably,

To which one — near which one they were drawn down the passage,
were they going? Would they ever Their carpeted way took them
return to their Earth again? Would back to the entrance chamber and
their friends ever know of the in- then up a steeply sloping corridor
credible adventure that had over- that led upward to the left. As they
taken them?— or would they, after passed along they saw that the hand
the few weeks of searching and in- of a master had made on the walls,
quiry that must follow their disap- in panel effect, marvelously compli-
pearance, at last conclude that some cated decorations in many-colored
nameless mountain disaster had mosaic. No man of Earth could ever
made them victims, and give them up have done such work, the two men
for dead? No doubt. And month realized — and this thought did not
after succeeding month their mem- cheer them any.
ory would fade from the minds of

those who had loved them, while A T the top of their curving pas-
they would be — where? sage a doorway led them into

a spacious room hung with soft,

A PECULIAR, dynamic thought finely woven tapestries with a metal-
came simultaneously into the lie lustre and furnished with deep-
minds of the two men. It was not a napped rugs and luxurious chairs
word; it seemed more like a feel- and divans. Through this room the
ing; but its unquestionable impdrT'-intangible threads of the alien wilj
was “Come.” Together they rose, directed them— on into a wide-
and looked at each other wonder- vaulted alcove about one-third its
ingly. Again came the feeling. They size. There, the strange clutch on
started for the door. them relaxed, and they looked about,

“But that’s foolish 1” Jim said at first apprehensively, then with
aloud, as if objecting to his own growing boldness and curiosity.

THE SLAVE SHIP PROM SPACE

“This is the control room!" ex*
claimed Clee suddenly; and after a
moment Jim agreed with him. It
was the simplicity of the controls
which had prevented them from rec-
ognizing it at first. Against the left
wall was a great table with a tilted
top, bearing, in its center, a raised
and hooded eyepiece giving a view
into a large, enclosed black box. On
each side were several rows of small,
shiny, metallic levers and what they
took to be instrument dials — round,
cup-shaped depressions with point-
ers free to move across dials lined
with disorderly and meaningless
convolutions. For the full length of
the middle wall, straight ahead, was
a broad table of some jet-black pol-
ished material, and on it was a large
array of instruments and apparatus,
all unfamiliar to them. Against the
draperies of the wall to their right
was one large cushioned chair, sim-
ple and beautiful in its lines.

No living person or thing could
be discerned in either the main room
or the alcove.

For several minutes the two men
walked all about, examining every-
thing they saw with curiosity and
interest; and then Clee discovered a
peculiar thing. ‘ His watch-dial,
glowing very brightly now, would
perceptibly increase in brilliance
every time he neared the great chair.
With sudden inspiration he took out
his package of tobacco and held it
in the line his watch made with the
chair — and he found that his watch
stopped glowing. He tried it again
from another angle, and the result
was the same. From that chair came
the electrical disturbance that was
making his watch-dial glow — yet
nowhere near the chair was any bit
of electrical apparatus to be seen.

What he did see in the chair,
though, almost caused his heart to
stop beating. The cushions of the
seat, compressed before, began to
puff out to full volume, as if some-
one had just risen from them. And

then, faintly but sharply outlined in
the long-napped rug in front, ap-
peared the print of a human shoe!

“A man!" breathed Clee. “A hu-
man being!"

T HE two men stood frozen in
their tracks. Clee’s arm, with the
package of tobacco in his hand, was
still outstretched toward the great
chair, but now the dial of his watch
was glowing brightly again. Some-
thing within caused him in spite of
his terror to move the package be-
tween the watch and the space above
the footprint on the rug. The glow-
ing stopped. The man— devil — what-
ever it was that made the print—
was the source of the strange exci-
tation !

This took but a second — the in-
terval before another shoe-print
formed in the rug in their direction.
Jim gasped something unintelligible
and started to back away; but no
sooner did Partridge start to follow
suit, than a compulsion to stand still
came over them. Caught where they
were, unable to move, they saw the
shoe-prints come towards them.
Slowly, step by step, twelve inches
apart, they came, and did not stop
until they were only four or five feet
away.

“We’ll jump him, if we get the
chancel" hissed Jim, never taking
his eyes off the prints.

“Yes,” came the answer; but Clec’s
further words were cut off in the
making by an added compulsion to
keep quiet. Were their words un-
derstood? The two men were locked,
speechless, where they stood. And
by some creature with a human foot-
print whom they could not see!

The touch of firm flesh came out
of the nothingness of space about
them, to poke and pry all over their
bodies. Anger began to take the
place of their fear, as, for some time,
impotent of resistance, they had to
submit to the examination given
them. They were prodded and felt

ASTOUNDING STORIES

like dogs at a show; their breathing
and heart action were carefully lis-
tened to; their mouths were opened
and their teeth inspected as if they
were horses offered for sale. Both
men were inwardly fuming.

“Dogs!” shouted Clee in his
thoughts. "Treating us like dogs, to
see how healthy we are! Does he
want us for slaves?”

A T last the examination came to
a stop, and they saw the shoe-
prints in the rug go over to the
black table and remain there, heels
toward them, while Various pieces
of apparatus were invisibly moved
across the table top. For a moment
the compelling will did not seem, to
Clee, to be constraining him as much
as it had, and he began to wonder if
he might not have a little control
over his body again. Tentatively he
tried to break through the oppres-
sing blanket of foreign will; his
arms and legs moved a little; he suc-
ceeded! He caught Jim’s eye, and
showed him. He thrilled all over at
his discovery, and his will to move
measurably increased with his grow-
ing confidence that he could.

The toes of the prints were still
turned away. He was going to try
and get the man or monster who was
making them.

He gestured to Jim, and with a
great effort took a step in the in-
visible man's direction. A thrill of
gladness helped him on — for Jim
was following suit!

Again and again, with greatest
mental effort, they made steps
toward the footprints, which, re-
maining side by side and motionless,
gave them increasing hope of steal-
ing up unobserved. When they were
only three feet away Clee motioned
to Jim, and with a tremendous effort
of will they jumped at the space
where their enemy should be.

They hit him hard, and bore him
heavily to the floor. By the feel, he
was a man such as they I Clee’s blood

leaped with the lust for revenge, and
blanking his mind against strong
urges to cease his attack he rained
savage blows at the place he was
holding.

But almost at once they had evi-
dence that their opponent was not
such a man as they. A terrific pain
stabbed suddenly through them, and
they doubled up on the floor, writh-
ing in agony. It was as if every
nerve in their bodies had turned into
white-hot wire, and was searing
through their flesh. Again and again
came the terrible stabs of pain — and
their source seemed to be the mys-
terious lumps at the back of their
necks I

A T last they ceased coming, and
Jim and Clee stretched out on
the floor all but unconscious from
the terrific shocks of fiery agony.
They were completely helpless; fur-
ther thoughts of resistance were un-
thinkable. But they were not left
lying long. There came a telepathic
compulsion to stand up; and they
found themselves obeying, in spite
of the shrieking protest of their
every nerve.

Twitching, stumbling, they were
made to do servile things — to kneel
on the floor; get up again; turn
round and round; bow low, then
stretch backwards. And out of the
air around them came shocking
blows which landed on their faces,
necks and chests ;. feet which kicked
out at their shins; and they had to
stand there and take it, helpless to
resist.

Then Clee, as the nearer of the
two men, was pushed over to the
work-table, where an oval head-piece
of finely-woven wire was fitted over
his head. Another very large one,
standing next to it, and connected
to it by wires which led to a small
instrument panel nearby, lifted into
the air until it must have settled
about the head of their persecutor.
A dial on the panel turned slowly.

THE SLAVE SHIP PROM SPACE

And gradually the helmet resting in
the air dissolved into nothingness
before their eyes.

A Blight nausea swept over Clee
as it did so, and in the midst of it
he felt a series of sharp, staccato
thoughts — thoughts which did not
seem to be composed of words, and
yet were clear and intelligible.

“TTVDOL of a fool I" crackled in
his brain with almost a phys-
ical effort, “do you think to resist
X antra? Do you think with your
sub-human minds to overcome one
of the Tillas, Masters of the Uni-
verse? Close you were to death —
and death indeed would have come
had I not other plans for you.

“Know that henceforth you and
your companion are my slaves. Yon
will jump at my slightest will; serve
me as best you can with such intel-
ligence as you may possess. For
faithful, willing service you shall
have food and clothing and a portion
of leisure. Disobedience and tardi-
ness will bring you the pain you
have already tasted; revolt, or the
attempt to escape— death; but only
after torture such as you have never
known.

“I shall never repeat this mode of
communication: it is as physically
nauseating to me as to you. And you
may never expect to see me, though
I can always see you. By vibrational
means I have given you the universal
atomic rhythm of all Tillian slaves;
and, although in that state your fel-
low-slaves will be visible to you, I,
your master, will not I

“You will now return to your
place of confinement. After you have
recovered you will be taken in hand
by your fellow-slaves and shown
your duties. And if your instinct for
self-preservation is only one-tenth
normal, you will never again be such
a stupid sub-animal fool as to at-
tempt to resist Xantra — to fly in the
face of the inevitable!"

The sharp, staccato voice in Clee’a

brain stopped; his nausea began to
leave him; his helmet was removed;
and had he been looking he might
have seen the other one slowly ma-
terialize on the table. The ordeal
was over just in time, for the last
remnants of his strength was giving
out — as was Jim’s. The two Earth-
men slumped down, and would have
fallen but for the telepathic will,
stronger than theirs, that forced
them erect again. There came a very
strong compulsion to return to their
cell, and bruised, stumbling, their
nerves still afire from their strange
stabbing pains, they made their way
back.

They fell to the floor and passed
into unconsciousness — beaten, sub-
dued. Slaves.

A FTER a long blank interval a
distinct thought crossed Clee’s
mind. He was in heaven, and an
angel voice had spoken. There it was
again ! Cool hands were stroking his
wrists and forehead. He opened his
eyes and looked, but seeing no one
closed them again.

The Voice returned, and two of
the words which kept repeating were
somehow familiar. “So sorry
so sorry . . .” The Voice was low
and cool and feminine. And someone
was bathing his battered head. . .
He rolled over and got up on one el-
bow. He still could see no one.

The Voice said: “Oh, I'm so glad
you’re better I I thought you'd never
come to!”

Mechanically Clee asked: “Who
are you?’’

“Vivian Gray,” came the quick an-
swer; “from Boston. And you?”
Clee did not answer, but started to
lie back again. Things were all
wrong: he couldn’t even see anyone.
He’d go back to sleep, and wake up
some other time, But the Voice
wouldn't let him.

“Oh, you must listen!" it said. *1
haven’t much time!”

“Where are you?" he asked.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

"Why — right here I” came the sur-
prised answer. “Can’t you see me?”
"No,” answered Clee, still not him-
self. He added categorically : “I can
see Jim. I can see the door. I can
see my hands, but I can’t see you.”
“Oh, then it must he true ! Xantra
told me he was going to make you
one of his common slaves; but I
hoped — I hoped — ”

T HIS didn’t mean) much to Clee;

but with the words came mem-
ory of all that had happened, and
with sudden concern he crept over
to where Jim was lying, to see how
he was. He found him blinking and
stirring, aroused by 'the voices.
Quickly he explained the invisible
presence to him, warning him to be
on guard.

“Oh. but I’m a friend — Vivian Gray
— kidnaped from Earth just like
you I” came quick explanation out of
the air. “Xantra stole me from Cape
Cod, where I was vacationing, about
the time he took you. Xantra is the
one whose space ship we are on. He
looks much like a man; he is some
kind of a man; but he’s not from
Earth—”

"You’ve seen him?” interrupted
Clee, beginning to believe the Voice
a little.

“Yes,” came the instant response;
"not when he abducted me — he had
made himself invisible for that — but
always after. Haven't you yet?” And
then, without waiting for his answer,
she gave it herself. "But of course
you couldn’t see him if he’s already
given you the universal atomic
rhythm the slaves have. You’d then be
able to see only each other, and the
other slaves ; not Xantra and not me.

“I think he makes his slaves that
way for protection,” Bhe explained.
"They can’t very well plot or rebel
agafnst him when they can’t even see
him, and never know but what he’s
around."

“Who are these slaves you keep
mentioning?” Jim broke in. “How

many of them are there on thiB ship;
and how many like Xantra?"

“'^J r ANTRA is the only one of
his kind,” came the answer.
“The slaves are a race of inferior
people found on his planet — wher-
ever that is: I couldn’t understand,
from his explanation, just where.
They are creatures much like ugly
human beings with a touch of the
ape, and are entirely bald, very
strong and not very intelligent.
There’re seven or eight on board.
Normally they are good-natured;
but sometimes when they have a
hard master, like Xantra, they take
to hating him; and when they do
that they can be very fierce and
treacherous. That’s the main reason
for Xantra’s stopping at Earth: to
see what kind of slaves we humans
will make. He is hoping that we will
be more intelligent than those he has
— and more docile, and safer to have
around."

“Well,” snorted Jim belligerently,
“if Mr. Xantra thinks that I’m going
to be safe to have around, he’s a lot
dumber than I am I"

“Oh, it’s good to hear you talk
that way," the girl’s voice went on.
“We three have got to stick to-
gether, and find some way to escape I

“I’ve so much to say!” she went
on; “but I daren’t stay long, for fear
of getting caught. What you said is
where my chief hope lies: Xantra
doesn’t realize how intelligent we
are, and how dangerous; and we
mustn’t let him know! I think he
believes we are much like his pres-
ent slaves: he gets away with mur-
der with them. You’ve noticed the
lumps on the back of your necks?
Well, they have them, too; it’s some-
thing that’s attached to the spinal
cord and gives him telepathic con-
trol over them; also the power to
hurt them dreadfully — as you’ve un-
fortunately found out. His slaves
don’t understand these lumps; they
don’t seem to know that he would

THE SLAVE SHIP FROM SPACE

lose control if they could only in
some way get rid of the things in
their necks I"

F OR the first time since the girl
started talking, Clee spoke. His
voice was low and grave, and there
was a tinge of suspicion in it.

“Just how does it happen,” he
asked, “that you know so much
about things here?”

The girl’s voice broke as she gave
her answer.

“I’m ashamed to tell you,” she
said. “Xantra — he — he admires me
as a healthy animal; one close, in
species, to himself. He thinks by
being nice to me that be might be
able to make me a willing companion
to share his trip I” For a moment
the girl was silent; and when she
spoke again there was a hard note in
her voice.

“I let him have hoi>es.” she said,
“ — deliberately. I planned to make
him trust me, and give me the run
of the ship, so I could find out all I
could. So far — before you came — I
saw no slightest hope of ever escap-
ing back to Earth; but I had at least
to look for a quifk, sure way to
death, in case — in case — ”

“You — and us too!” exclaimed
Clee impulsively. "No Earth-man —
no American, at least — is ever going
to submit to slavery. If the worst
comes to the worst, we'll at least die
together, Vivian!”

Jim added soberly: “And perhaps,
if we do, no one from Xantra's
planet will ever again come to Earth
looking for ‘docile’ slaves. .”

F OR a moment everyone was si-
lent, affected by the thought
|>ehind what they had said. Then the
girl’s voice suggested, with a touch
of Earth formality that was almost
ludicrous under the circumstances:
“But you two men have not yet in-
troduced yourselves!”

Both Clee and Jim smiled, end
told her their names, and in the

slight pause that followed Clee said
awkwardly, almost shyly: “Miss

Gray, we don’t know what’s in store
for us here, and it — it's possible that
we may never know each other any
better; so would you — I mean, I
wonder would you mind if I reached
out and touched you. In spite of all
we have said, I — I can hardly realize
that you are there, somewhere, be-
fore me.”

Out of the nothingness came an
impulsive soft hand that closed over
his. There was both a smile and
something deeper in Vivian’s voice
as she said, “Here,” and raised his
hand until it touched her brow and
the thick smooth hair of her head.
Then she placed it a little lower,
over her face; and gently Clee's
fingers told him what his eyes could
not read.

“In case you never see me — why,
I — I’d like you to know that I'm
really not bad looking,” she said;
and Clee knew she was blushing as
he smiled at the eternal feminine in
her.

B UT the smile suddenly left his
face. His hand had felt her give
a distinct start. Then —

“He's calling !” she gasped faintly.
“Xantra’s calling for me to come to
him!” Her voice, as she spoke,
moved, and Clee knew she was go-
ing towards the door.

“No I” he cried impulsively. “Don’t
risk it! Stay here, and we'll begin
our fight against him right now!"

“I will be safe,” came Vivian’s re-
assuring voice from the door. “I can
manage him a while yet.” Her fur-
ther words came with a rush. “But I
wanted to tell you — I had a faint
plan. If I could get hold of the
anaesthetic — the vial of stuff that
smells like cloves — ”

The door was closing now, and tbe
two men knew she was moving down
the corridor. They listened in vain
for her to complete what she had
been saying. Just before the dear

ASTOUNDING STORIES

clicked shut, Jim jammed his foot
in if, preventing it from closing.

‘Gee, that girl has courage!” Clee
murmured.

For a moment the two men looked
at each other. Jim was thinking
about the opened door, and the
chance they had to get out. But
Clee’s mind was on something else.

“Well, Jim,” he said, “you and I
have a nasty job 'ahead.”

Jim looked at Clee wonderingly as
he took out his pipe and stuck it in
the crack of the door, allowing him
to remove his foot. Clee explained
to him what Xantra had told him
with the thought-sending helmets;
reminded him of wfiht they had
learned from Vivian about the lumps
on their necks. After he had finished
he said quietly but decisively:

“Now, we’re going to try and re-
move whatever is under these lumps.
Have you got anything sharp? Your
knife? Something with an edge on
it?”

It would mean escape from the
domination of Xantra’s will! — from
his terrible stabbing punishment!—
if they could remove them! Jim
breathed a little quicker in his ex-
citement.

“But once we do it — if we can do
it — it’ll mean that we’ll have to make
our break to escape right away,” he
reminded Clee. “We’ll be caught, if
Xantra wills us to come to him and
we don’t appear!”

"You know what will happen to
Vivian if we delay the attempt,”
Clee reminded him levelly; and Jim
knew that Clee was right — that their
break for freedom must start right
then and there.

H E looked through his pockets
and produced some cigarettes,
matches, a pipe, a nailfile and some
utterly useless odds and ends. Clee’s
hands came but of his pockets emp-
ty. “I’ve got nothing at all,” he said
— and picked up the nailfile and
looked at it questioningly. “Well

have to use this, I guess. Well,
I’m first.”

He lay face down on the floor and
loosened his collar. Quietly, he made
several suggestions. “Light a match
and heat the tip in the flame,” be
said. “The point’s pretty dull, but
cut as deep and quick and clean as
you can. If I yell, pay no attention;
I’ll try to hold still. Unless it bleeds
very much, best not make a band-
age; we’ve nothing clean enough.”

That was all he said ; and Jim, his
heart beating like mad, and a lump
in his throat, could find no words at
all. He sterilized the tip of the file
as directed, studied the lump a mo-
ment, then, after, a rough, affection-
ate shake of his friend’s shoulder, be
knelt close to his task. One quick
hard cut; a sharp gasp from Glee; a
repetition; then two morb times
crossways — and a firm, spongelike,
metallic disc lay revealed. Then the
worst — raising it a little, and break-
ing the several fine wires that led
from it through the flesh within. . . .

Clee lay panting, the sweat run-
ning down the deep wrinkles of pain
on his face. Dark blood oozed from
the jagged wound. But he smiled a
little, and some of the pain-wrinkles
in his face smoothed away, when
Jim showed him the disk. . .

For a short time Clee rested,
quieting his nerves, while Jim
staunched the flow of blood.

And then it was Jim’s turn; and
he bore the sharp agony as stoically
as Clee. . .

It was perhaps a strange thing;
but at this great moment in the lives
of the two men they felt no need to
talk. For the few minutes they
rested after they had done, no word
was spoken ; but in that time d bond
of friendship was formed that only
death could ever break.

T HEY did not rest long. Every
moment brought them nearer to
the inevitable discovery of what
they had done. Their muscles were

THE SLAVE SHIP FROM SPACE

still quivering, the wounds on their
necks still slowly bleeding, when
Clee rose and aroused Jim. The
most dangerous, desperate part of
their wild revolt lay just ahead.

They were able to make but the
vaguest of plans, not knowing what
to anticipate outside. They only
knew that they would first have to
strike boldly for possession of the
control alcove — which, without doubt
meant they would have, somehow, to
kill Xantra — to find and kill a man
they could not see, yet who could
see them. An enormous task. And
only the first of several.

For a moment, realizing this, they
hesitated at the door. But the die
had been cast; there was nothing for
them to do but go forward — and
quickly; so, giving Jim a final warn-
ing that they must stick together,
Clee opened wide the door and
stepped out into the corridor.

What he saw there halted him in
bis tracks.

“The slaves!” gasped Jim, and in-
voluntarily both Earth-men backed
into the room again. The creatures
they had seen at once followed them
inside.

There were four of them. As tall
as men, they were, and the general
cast of their bodies was identical.
But they were different in shocking
little details. Their heads were much
larger, and in the shape of inverted
pears, like those of hydrocephalics;
their eyes, popped and dull. The
thin lips beneath their stubs of noses
were ever writhing and twisting in
horrible grimaces. And, worst, their
skins were sickly-white, and were
absolutely bald of hair. The only
clothes they wore were loin-cloths
and very large sandals, which ex-
posed to full view their chunky,
muscular bodies.

All this the two men took in at a
glance. They knew they could never
hope to cope, unarmed, with four
such creatures as these, so they
stood with their backs to the wall,

alertly awaiting their first move.

“Easy,” warned Clee. “They’re
probably only coming to take us in
hand, as Vivian said.”

T HE nearest of the slaves stepped
a little closer to the two men,
and by the twitching of its eyelids
and the increased itaouthings of its
lips it was apparent that the crea-
ture was highly excited. A high,
variable moaning sound came from
its throat. Curiously, boldly, it
looked Clee all over — and then it
did an amazing thing. Seeing the
blood on the back of his neck, it
swung him around, put its writhing
lips to the still-bleeding wound and
dog-like licked it clean.

The gesture was altogether a
friendly one.

Another of the slaves of Xantra
went up and did the same to Jim,
and the two men looked at each other
with relief. This meant that the re-
moval of the disks had not been un-
derstood by the creatures!

It was with growing hope that they
allowed themselves to be conducted
from their cell, through the slopiiig
corridor into a doorway they had
passed coming in, and down a curv-
ing flight of steps into a large room
below* They were in the space at the
very bottom of the ship, for, through
the redly-glowing transparent walls
that curved on each side and below,
they could see the infinite deeps of
star-filled space. Three other slaves
were there, waiting for them. At the
far side of the room their guide
pointed to two small stalls, with a
partition between, which they under-
stood were to be their beds. They
were across from a long row of simi-
lar ones.

“Making us right at home,” com-
mented Jim. “I wonder if they'll
serve cakes and tea.”

"Wish they would,” added Clee;
“I'm getting damned hungry. But
we've got work to do — and we’ve got
to do it quick I”

ASTOUNDING STORIES

His eyes swept the room, looking
inMig the sparse furnishings for
snwieriiing they might be able to use
as a weapon. He saw nothing, but the
sight of the lump on the neck of a
nearby slave gave him an idea.

"I 'wonder if these slaves would
fight for us if we removed the lumps
from their necks,” he said musingly,
his eyes narrow. “I wish there were
some way to talk to them. ."

H E looked from one to another
of the animal-own making a
circle about them, wondipring what to
do; then quickly he made his deci-
sion. “Jim, I’m going to try. It’ll
have to be done by signs ; I've got to
make them understand, and get their
permission.’’

At once he raised his hand to get
the slaves’ attention; then, raising
both fists high in the air, he shook
them violently, at the same time grit-
ting his teeth, working his face, and
growling in animal anger at some-
thing overhead. He was trying to
show the slaves his anger at Xantra,
above.

The slaves fell away from him in
surprise and alarm, not understand-
ing what he was trying to put
across. He continued his demonstra-
tion, hopping about furiously, but
still without result. Then Jim cried
out:

“Touch the place on your neck I”
Clee did so, and the result was
startling. Quickly there ran around
the circle throaty growls of anger,
and every slave raised a hand to the
lump on its neck. Evidently they
had all felt the awful punishment-
pain of their master.

Heartened by this, Clee extended
his pantomime. Stopping his dem-
onstration of anger, he put one fin-
ger on the wound on his neck and
fell to the floor, writhing in simu-
lated pain. As he lay there groan-
ing, the easily aroused animal-men
moaned with him in sympathy. Then
Jim, inspired, stepped into the act.

Taking out his nailfile, he bent over
the prostrate Clee and pretended to
cut into his neck, making a greet
show of removing something and
throwing it away; and as he did so
Clee jumped to his feet and grinned
and hopped about the room in a
wildly exaggerated affectation of
joy and relief. Then he stopped his
acting and carefully showed the
slaves the wounds in his and Jim’s
necks, by finger movements doing
his best to make it clear that they
had removed something from there.

And then, taking no chances, he
repeated the whole pantomime, Jim,
at the proper place, acting his part
as before.

W HEN at last he stopped and
looked around, he was over-
joyed at his apparent success in put-
ting across the idea. All over the
room the animal-men were repeating
his show in its various phases.

“Now I’ve got to take the disk out
of one of them,” said Clee, “and it's
a mighty dangerous thing to at-
tempt! You see how easily their
emotions are aroused. If I hurt too
much — I”

“I know,” responded Jim, “but
we’ve got to risk it, for if we suc-
ceed we’ve got a good bunch of
tough fighters at our backs. We need
every bit of help we can get I"
Carefully they made their few
preparations, and Clee, again by
acting, indicated to one of the ani-
mal-men what he wanted to do. He
seemed to make himself well under-
stood, for without hesitation the
creature lay face down on the floor.
The others all gathered around as
Clee bent over it, and Jim scanned
their faces closely for any sign of
suspicion or resentment. Seeing
none, he told Clee to start; then
held his breath in awful suspense.

The disk appeared near the sur-
face, and with a quick slice Clee
made his first incision. With the
cut, the prone slave bucked and

THE SLAVE SHIP PROM SPACE

snarled. Clee murmured soothing
words to it in English, and, as the
creature quieted down, made another
cut. Again came the bucking and
throaty protest; and this time, to
Jim’s dismay, he saw in the bestial
laces of the animal-men around them
a sympathetic swing of emotional
protest. A little more, now, and
Clee would be able to take the disk
out; but would the slaves restrain
themselves until then
Again Clee allowed the brute body
under him to calm down. Then, as
he was about to cut once more,
from somewhere above in the space
ship came the piercing scream of a
woman. Something was happening
to Vivian.

C LEE half started to rise, to run
to her aid, but he forced himself
to be reasonable. Weaponless, visi-
ble, he could never hope to rescue
■n invisible girl from someone he
couldn’t even see. He was on the
point of making valuable allies; in
just a few moments more — I He de-
cided to hurry through with the job
be had undertaken.

All below had heard the scream.
The circle around him was shifting
uncertainly, and peculiar sounds
were coming out of the brutes'
twisting mouths as he bent again
over their fellow on the floor.

Clee’s hand was trembling like an
aspen leaf as he prepared to make
the next incision. He was completely
unnerved, and with the utmost ef-
forts of his will he was unable to
control the nailfile. And he had to
hurry!

He sliced as straight as he could
at the bleeding lump ; the slave
moved; and the point of the file
•lipped deep into the creature’s
Sethi

At that, with a snarling growl the
brute below arched from the floor
and flung Clee sprawling. From all
around the circle came menacing
growls as the bleeding animal-man

lumbered to its feet and came after
him in a definite attack. Jim, not at
that moment the center of their at-
tention, pushed one of the slaves in
the way of the charging brute and
the two of them half fell; and before
they could recover their balance Clee
was on his feet making after Jim
to the steps that led up out of the
room.

“Up I” came Jim’s shout. “Fast!
We’ve made them enemies!”

Above them on the stairs was de-
scending another slave, innocent of
what had transpired below, and the
two men bowled it over in their
haste to get past. All the way to the
bottom of the stairs it tumbled ; and
that delayed pursuit for the moment
needed by the Earth-men to gain the
upper corridor. Quickly they darted
through the door ; there was no way
they could lock or block it, so they
had to run on. Taking to the left,
they found themselves in the little
entrance room, and from there their
only course led up the corridor lead-
ing to Xantra’s quarters and the con-
trol alcove.

Arrived there, the two men found
the door ajar, but they paused ir-
resolute before it, hardly daring to
go in. They had no choice, however,
for behind, only fifteen feet away,
came the van of the animal-men.
They pushed through the door,
closed and bolted it, then, wheeling
tigerishly, surveyed the room.

EY saw no one.

They were not relieved at this.
Xantra might well be there; he, as
well as Vivian, would be invisible to
them. And he had every opportu-
nity of striking first; even then he
might be preparing to deal with
them, if he was in the room. The
slaves were not attempting to break
in the door to get them — and this
was ominous : it argued that the
master was there.

The two men stood motionless at
the door, peering intently at the rug

ASTOUNDING-STORIES

in search of telltale footprints. Then
Clee touched Jim's shoulder and
whispered faintly in his ear:
“Cloves! Smell it?”

Jim nodded. Slowly, on guard
every second, they advanced to the
alcove. They saw no sign of anyone
there, though the odor of cloves was
stronger. Jim grabbed a chair and
held it ready, and Clee followed suit
with a small, heavy tabouret. Cau-
tiously, methodically, the two men
began to reconnoitre the large room,
examining foot by foot the rug in
search of the faint clear prints that
would reveal the presence of their
enemy. The smell of cloves was be-
ginning to dull their brains a little.
Clee saw the danger in this, and
whispered to Jim:

“Faster! Xantra may be insidi-
ously anaesthetizing us; We’ve got
to find where he is— quick!”

They hastened their search, feel-
ing more and more sure that Xantra
was close by. And not till then did
Clee remember that he had a way
to discover Xantra’s location. Jim
heard him curse under his breath;
saw him put down the tabouret and
take out his tobacco; and knew at
once what he was about to do. He
went close to Clee, to guard him
with his chair against possible
attack.

T HE face of Clee's wrist watch
was glowing brightly; it took
only a second to find with the pack-
age of tobacco a spot which cut the
dial’s unnatural glow. As they found
it the skin on the two men’s bodies
prickled all over. The line from the
dial to the package of tobacco, if
continued, would reach a spot on the
floor not six feet away. And look-
ing carefully there they could barely
make out, in the bent hairs of the
rug, a broken outline that might
have been made by a prone figure.

As they prepared to jump they
heard from that place a low sigh —
and just before them appeared the

distinct print of a human hand.
Xantra was rising! And coincident
with this a sudden banging at the
door told them that the slaves at
last had started to break in I

As one man the two Earthlings
leaped on Xantra; he would have to
be taken care of first. When they
had fastened on his rising body they
punched and pounded it furiously.
Though their enemy was undoubt-
edly only half conscious, the sudden
attack aroused him and he resisted
vigorously. But then Clee made a
lucky connection on. what he felt to
be his jaw, and the invisible form in
their arms went limp.

“Get a rope — wire — anything to
bind him with — quick!" yelled Clee.
“I’ll hold him!”

The pounding at the door was in-
creasing ominously as Jim dashed
over to the work-table. Rapidly he
looked for something suitable, and
in a few seconds was back with s
length of stout wire which they
quickly wrapped around the ankles
and wrists of the limp form Clee
was holding. As the wire touched
Xantra it gradually disappeared
from their sight, but their fingers
reassured them that he was tightly
bound.

Then they were at the door,
which, shivering and bending from
the battering without, showed signs
of giving in. With herculean ef-
forts they dragged a heavy divaa
over and wedged it tightly against
it; then added other furniture in a
tight supporting pile. But the door,
of some light metal, was not built
to stand such a siege, and was buc-
kling further inward with each blow
being dealt it. More and more
plainly the two men could hear the
triumphant snarls and howls of the
animal-men.

Frantically they ransacked the
rooms looking for what they thought
might be weapons, but found none.
They looked at each other with dis-
may. It seas only a question of time

THE SLAVE SHIP FROM SPACE

minutes— before the slaves would

break in. What could they do?

I N that tense moment of indecision
a low, weak vqice reached their
ears— a woman's voice, and one they
remembered well.

“Vivian I" cried Clee, and ran to
the alcove, from whence it had
seemed to come. The girl’s next
words brought them understanding.

“Clee — Jim — it’s Xantra ! He’s
willing the slaves to break in! He’s
lying bound on the floor, but he’s
conscious !”

Clee ran to where he had left the
invisible man, cursing himself un-
der his breath for being an utter ass
for not having guessed this. His
groping fingers quickly found the
squirming Xantra's neck ; and he had
begun to throttle him into uncon-
sciousness when Vivian called out:
“No! Don’t! That won’t stop the
slaves; they've already been given
the order! We’ve got to make Xan-
tra stop them! Here — drag him to
the work-table! I’ve got some-
thing — ”

Wondering what the girl was
about, Clee relaxed his grip on the
invisible man’s neck and complied.
But he suddenly understood — and
Jim, too— when he saw coming
through the air the pair of thought-
sending helmets. He had a way of
communicating with Xantra, of
course! He saw the larger helmet
lower to rest over the head he was
still holding ; then soft hands placed
the other over his own.

As it settled down a great crash
sounded in the other room : the door
had' given in. It was still held al-
most in place by the tightly-wedged
furniture, but that would not hold
the animal-men long.

“Hurry 1” cried Jim. “I’ll stand by
the door I" And he was already on
his way to it.

Clee saw the small panel on the
table above ; saw the knob on it turn.
He caught Vivian’s excited voice.

“Tell him to order them to stop,”
she said ; “or else— or else — ”

“He dies!” finished Clee, viciously
thumbing into the air where the in-
visible Xantra’s neck was.

W ITH all the intensity he
could muster, Clee concen-
trated on one simple, strong thought.
He hardly heard the triumphant
cries of the slaves as they felt the
blocking furniture give before their
efforts ; all his energy was being ex-
pended in the will to get his thought
across.

“Tell those slaves to stop breaking
in or you die!” he commanded.

The noises at the door continued.
Either Xantra had not understood,
or else he was stubborn. He re-
peated his command and threat, and
still the crashing sounds came to his
ears.

Desperate, he played his last card;
and unconsciously his lips formed
the words of his next mental com-
mand, so that it was understood by
the breathlessly watching Vivian.

"Tell them to stop!” he willed.
"No more air till you do!" And with
the words his fingers closed tightly
over the other’s throat.

The sounds at the door continued;
for a moment the invisible form be-
tween Clee’s knees writhed vio-
lently— and then suddenly, almost
magically, a silence fell over the
whole room. Clee had forced his
will on Xantra! He had made him
stop the slaves I
And just in time.

Clee’B fingers relaxed a little on
the throat of the man beneath him.
He turned and said: “Quick, Vivian
—find that anaesthetic I” A moment
later it was pressed in his hands.
“Say when,” he told the girl, and
held it beneath the nose of the help-
less man. Xantra’s head at once fell
back, and he heard Vivian telling
him to stop. He pulled away the
bottle, corked it and stood up.
“Well, that’s that,” he said.

ASTOUNDING STOKIBS

F OR a moment be was silent.

Only the noises made by Jim in
strengthening the barricade at the
door could be heard in the room.
Then he said, earnestly :

“I wish I could see you, Vivian —
right now; but that'll have to wait,
I guess. . .

A low laugh came from the place
where the girl was standing. A hand
touched his arm, and he found him-
self being conducted into the alcove.
Vivian laughed again; said, teas-
ingly, “What a stupid expression on
your face !" then commanded him to
shut his eyes, and keep^them shut.
He felt something being attached to
his wrists; heard a coarse hum that
quickly rose in pitch until it passed
the range of hearing. He was caught
up in a surprising exhilaration; he
heard the hum again, sliding down
and down in pitch, while every atom
in his body felt a sickening vibration
that grew ever coarser. Then sud-
denly he felt normal; the things on
his wrists were removed and Vivian
told him he could open his eyes.

He did so. He had guessed what
she had done, but he was surprised,
nevertheless, to see the straight,
slender, attractive girl who stood be-
fore him.

“You see, X antra used this on me
twice — the latter time to restore me,
so 1 would be able to see him. I
watched him carefully," the girl ex-
plained.

Ctee gaaed at Vivian in greatest
confusion. Why — she was beautiful !
He grew conscious of a growing
need to say something, and eventu-
ally the asinine thing that left his
lips was:

“Yes— y ou— you aren’t bad look-
ing at alL"

The girl turned away. Mushing;
and it was Jim who relieved Clee
from his awkward situation. He
came swinging happily through the
alcove portal to suddenly stop in
blank surprise. Clee had disap-
peared I

I T did not take long to restore
Jim to his normal self, and Vivian
and Clee laughed at the great sigh
of relief he unconsciously gave
when he found himself able to set
the girl who before had been only a
disembodied Voice to hint. Clee ex-
plained to Vivian what had hap-
pened to them down below, and she
in turn told them how she and X an-
tra had come to be unconscious when
they reached the control alcove.

“I found the anaesthetic by its
smell soon after I went to Xantra,"
she explained. “I tried to conceal it
in my dream, but Xantra saw me and
tried to take it away; and in the
struggle that followed I guess we
both got anaesthetized. When I
came to I saw you and Jim trying
to hold back the slaves ; and I could
see Xantra on the floor, conscious
which you couldn’t— and knew he
was ordering the slaves on. So I
told you, and — here we are I
“Do you want to see Xantra now?"
she added.

Clee would never forget the sight
of the bound figure that met his eyes
on the floor on the large room. The
clothes were odd; the figure wa
much that of a normal man, though
the shoulders were more sloped and
the head much larger ; but it was the
face, its expression, that held him.

Unhealthy, leprous-white was the
skin, and there was not one hair,
eyelash or eyebrow on the whole
head. The closed eyes lay in deep
caverns surrounded by a thousand
fine wrinkles, which crisscrossed ail
over his face in ev er y direction. The
face and head were freakish — mon-
strous ; and yet, somehow, over it
rested an expression of infinite wis-
dom and calm. He lay bound and
still and unconscious, at the mercy
of men far below him intellectually,
this man from another planet. Clee
could not help but compare him to a
stoical man staked out on an anthill
to die . .

“Well have to hasp him non

THE SLAVE SHIP FROM SPACE

scious with the anaesthetic,” he said
at length; “he’s too dangerous to
monkey with. And that means we’ve
got to find out how to run this ship
—take it back ourselves.”

"Leave that to me I” said Jim, feel-
ing quite chipper. “Never saw any-
thing yet I couldn’t drive. Where is
it — Cape Cod, you want to be let off,
Miss Gray? . . . O. K. This is my
joy-ride, and I’ll see that you’re de-
livered at your front door.”

M ORE than two days later,
again at night, the few look-
outs on the* lonely fishing craft off
Cape Cod might have seen a pin-
point of cherry red appear off the
eastern horizon and make a wide arc
up the heavens.

Its course was erratic, and it made
■udden angles as it drew near the
zenith. It glowed more and more
brightly as it approached — until it
disappeared from sight overhead.

For some minutes it was invisible;
and then, suddenly, only a few hun-
dred yards overhead, it emerged into
view again, a great sphere of faintly
glowing, cherry-red crystal. Rap-
idly — with dangerous speed — it de-
scended, straighfTor the shoreline of
Massachusetts Bay. And as it
neared, its erratic side-to-side dashes
increased, rather than diminished.

Down at a wide angle it came for
the beach; then, when it was a hun-
dred feet away, it sheared suddenly

out to sea/'There, only a few feet
above the water, it darted to the side
once more — and fell, and skipped
along the water at dizzying speed.

But it did not go far. With its
first contact with the water a great
crack split the night air; and a little
further the ship split into hundreds
of small pieces, all of which slid
along the surface of the water until,
their momentum lost, they came to a
stop and slowly sank from view. A
dozen figures were left threshing on
the surface; but one by one they
disappeared, till there were only
four left. Then one of the four sank
from sight. . .

Slowly but steadily the remaining
three drew near to the welcoming
shore, and at last stood dripping and
tired on the sandy beach. For some
time they stood there in silence, re-
viewing all the incredible adventure
they had been through, as they
gazed off across the water to the
place where the slave ship had gone
down.

But one of them — Jim — had some-
thing to say, and at last it came out.

“Well, I told you I’d drive you
safely back!”

Clee, his arm around the waist of
the exhausted Vivian, smiled and an-
swered :

“But I don’t see Vivian’s front
door.”

“We’re close enough!" Jim Bnort-
ed. “After all, I did hit the Earth!”

Coming Next Month

BROOD OF THE DARK MOON

Beginning a New Novel
By CHARLES WILLARD DIFFIN

By Nat Schachner and
Arthur L. Zagat

Something in the many-faceted
mind of the master machine spurs it
to diabolical revolt afaioit the au-
thority of its human masters.

PROLOGUE

F OR five thousand years, since
that nigh legendary figure Ein-
stein wrote and thought in the far-
off mists of time, the scientists en-
deavored to reduce life and the uni-
verse to terms of a mathematical for-
mula. And they thought they had
succeeded. Throughout the world
machines did the work of man, and
the aristos, owners of the machines,
played in soft idleness in their crys-
tal and gold pleasure cities. Even

the prolat hordes, relieved of all but
an hour or two per day of toil, were
content in their warrens — content
with the crumbs of their masters.

Then the ice began, to move, down
from the north and up from the
south. Slowly, inexorably, the jaws
of the great vise closed, till all that
was left of the wide empire of man

was a narrow belt about the equator.
Everywhere else was a vast tumbled
waste of cold and glaring whiteness,
a frozen desert. In the narrow habi-
table belt were compacted the teem-
ing millions of earth's peoples.

In spite of the best efforts of the
scientists among them, the crowding
together of the myriads of earth’s

rW.-f*''- X,'

kVa

Wp y,a T t S i-' •- -

■ P:

inhabitants brought in its tram the
inevitable plagues of famine and dis-
ease. Even with the most intensive
methods of cultivation, even with
the synthetic food factories running
day and night, there could not be
produced enough to sustain life in
the hordes of prolate. And with the
lowering of resistance and the lack
of sufficient sanitary arrangements,
disease began to spread with ever in-
creasing rapidity and virulence.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

T HE aristos trembled, f or they
were few, and the prolats many.
Already were arising load and dis-
heveled orators, inciting the millions
to arise against their masters. The
aristos were few, but they were not
helpless. In the blackness of a moon-
less, clouded night there was a whis-
pering of many wings, and from
dark shapes that loomed against the
dark sky, great beams swept over the
tented fields where the prolats lay
huddled and sleeping. And when the
red sun circled the ice-chained earth
he found in his path heaps of dust
where on his last journey he had
warmed the swarming millions.

The slaves thus ruthlessly de-
stroyed could well be spared, for the
machines did the work of the world,
even to the personal care of the aris-
tos’ pampered bodies. Only for di-
rection, and starting and stopping,
was the brain and the hand of man
required. How that the inhabited
portion of the terrestrial globe was
so straitly circumscribed, radio
power waves, television and radio-
phone, rendered feasible the control
of all the machines from one central
station, built at the edge of the
Northern Glacier. Here were brought
the scant few of the prolats that had
been spared, a pitiful four hundred
men and women, and they were set
to endless, thankless tasks.

I was one of those few; and Kes-
ton, my friend, who was set at the
head of the force. I was second in
command. For a decade we labored,
whipped our fellows to their tasks,
that the aristos might loll careless in
the perfume and silks of their pleas-
ure palaces, or riot in wild revel, to
sink at last in sodden stupor.
Sprawled thus they would lie, until
the dressing machines we guided
would lift them gently from their
damasked couches, bathe them with
warm and fragrant waters, clothe
their soft carcasses in diaphanous,
iridescent webs, and start them on a
new day of debauchery.

But the slow vengeance of an in-
scrutable Omnipotence they mock-
ingly denied overtook them at last,
and I saw the rendering and pay-
ment of the long past due account.

A S I entered the vast domed
hall wherein all my waking
hours were spent, the shrill
whistle of an alarm signal
told me that something had been
wrong. Instinctively I looked to-
ward the post of Abud. Three timeB
in the past week had Keston or I
been called upon for swift action to
right some error of that dull witted
prolat. On the oval visor-screen
above the banked buttons of his sta-
tion I saw the impending catas-
trophe. Two great freight planes,
one bearing the glowing red star
that told of its cargo of highly ex-
plosive terminite, were approaching
head-on with lightning rapidity. The
fool had them on the same level.

Abud was gaping now at the screen
in paralyzed fright, with no idea of
how to avoid the cataclysm. Just be-
low I glimpsed the soaring towers of
Antarcha. In a moment that gold and
crystal pleasure city would be
blasted to extinction, with all its
sleeping thousands. Swift would be
the vengeance of the aristos. Al-
ready I could see Abud and Keston
and a hundred others melting in the
fierce rays of the Death Bath!

But, even as my face blanched
with the swift and terrible vision,
the little controller’s car ground to
a smoking stop at Abud’s back. With
one motion Keston’s lithe form
leaped from his seat and thrust aside
the gaping prolat. His long white
fingers darted deftly over the gleam-
ing buttons. The red starred plane
banked in a sudden swerve; the
other dipped beneath. Distinct from
the speaker beneath the screen came
the whoosh of the riven air as the
fliers flashed past, safe by a margin
of scant feet. Another rippling play
of the prolat chief’s fingers and the

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

planes were back on their proper
courses. The whistle ceased its pierc-
ing alarm, left a throbbing stillness.

C HIEF KESTON turned to the
brute faced culprit. Cold con-
tempt tautened the thin, ascetic fea-
tures of his face. Somehow I was at
his side: I must have been running
across the wide floor of the Control
Station while the crisis had Aired
and passed. In measured tones, each
word a cutting whip-lash, came his
well merited rebuke:

“Don’t try me too far, Abud. Long
before this I should have relieved
you of your post, and ordered you to
the Death Bath. I am derelict in my
duty that I do not do so. By my
weak leniency I imperil the lives of
your comrades, and my own. It is
your good fortune that a Council
delegate has not been present at one
of your exhibitions. But I dare not
risk more. Let the warning whistle
come from your station just once
again and I shall report you as an
incompetent. You know the law.”

I looked to see the man cringe in
abasement and contrition. But the
heavy jaw thrust forth in truculent
defiance; hate blazed forth from the
deep-set eyes; the florid features
were empurpled with rage. He made
as if to reply, but turned away from
the withering scorn in Kes ton’s
face.

“Ha, Meron, here at last.” A warm
■nile greeted me. “I’ve been waiting
for you impatiently."

“I’m an hour before my time,” I
replied, then continued, exasper-
atedly: “Chief, I hope this latest im-
becility will convince you that you
ought to turn him in. I know it
hurts you to condemn a prolat to the
Death Bath, but if you let him go on,
his mistakes will bring us all to that
end.”

I glanced toward where a black
portal broke the circle of switch-
boards, and shuddered. Behind that
grim gate leaped and flared eternally

the flame of the consuming Ray, the
exhaust flue of the solar energy by
which the machines were fed. Once
I had seen a condemned man step
through that aperture at the order of
an aristo whom he had offended. For
a moment his tortured body had
glowed with a terrible golden light.
Then — there was nothing.

M Y friend pressed my arm, calm-
ingly. Again he smiled.
“Come, come, Meron, don’t get all
worked up. It isn’t his fault. Why,
look at him. Can’t you Bee that he is
a throwback, lost in this world of
science and machines? Besides” — his
voice dropped low — “it doesn’t mat-
ter any more. Man-failure will no
longer trouble the even tenor of the
machines. I've finished.”

A tremor of excitement seized me.
“You’ve completed it at last? And it
works?”

“It works. I tested it when the
shifts changed at midnight ; kept the
oncoming force outside for five min-
utes. It works like a charm.”
"Great! When will you tell the
Council?”

“I’ve already sent the message off.
You know how hard it is to get them
away from their wines and their
women — but they'll be here soon.
But before they come, I’ve some-
thing to tell you. Let’s go back be-
hind the screens.”

As we walked toward the huge
tarpaulin-screened mass that bulked
in the center of the great chamber.
I glanced around the hall, at the
thousand-foot circle of seated pro-
late. Two hundred men and women
were there; two hundred more were
sleeping in the dormitories. These
were all that were left of the world’s
workers. Before each operative rose
the serried hundreds of pearl but-
tons, dim lit, clicking in and out un-
der the busy fingers. Above each, an
oval visor-screen with its flitting
images brought across space the area
the switches controlled. Every one

ASTOUNDING STORIES

of the ten score was watching his
screen with taut attention, and lis-
tening to the voices of the machines
there depicted — the metallic voices
from the radio speakers broadcast-
ing their needs.

The work was going on as it had
gone on for ten years, with the om-
nipresent threat of the Death Bath
whipping flagged, tired brains to
dreary energy. The work kept going
on till they dropped worn out at last
in their tired seats. Only in Keston’s
brain, and in mine, flamed the new
hope of release. Tomorrow the work
would be done, forever. Tomorrow,
we would be released, to take our
places in the pleasure palaces. To
loll at ease, breathing the sweet per-
fume of idleness, waited on by ma-
chines directed by a machine.

F OR, as we stood behind the
heavy canvas folds that Keston
had drawn aside, there towered,
fifty feet above me, halfway to the
arching roof, a machine'that was the
ultimate flowering of man's genius.
Almost man-form it was— two tall
metal cylinders supporting, a larger,
that soared aloft till far above it was
topped by a many-faceted ball of
transparent quartz. Again I had a
fleeting, but vivid, impression of
something baleful, threatening,
about it. Small wonder, though. For
the largest cylinder, the trunk of the
man-machine Keston had created,
was covered thick with dangling
arms. And the light of the xenon
tube that flooded the screened space
was reflected from the great glass
head till it seemed that the thing
was alive; that it was watching me
till some unguarded moment would
give it its chance.

A long moment we stood, going
again over each detail of the thing,
grown so familiar through long han-
dling as it was slowly assembled.
Then my friend’s voice, low pitched
as was its wont, dissipated the vi-
sions I was seeing. “Two hours ago,

Meron, with none here but me to see,
those arms were extended, each to
its appointed station. And, as the
sensitive cells in the head received
the signals from the visor-screens
and the radio-speakers the arms shot
about the key-boards and pressed the
proper buttons just as our men are
doing now. The work of the world
went on, without a falter, with only
the master machine to direct it. Yet
a year ago, when I first spoke to you
of the idea, you told me it was im-
possible!”

“You have won,” I responded;
"you have taken the last step in the
turning over of the functions of man
to machines — the last step but one.
Routine control, it is true, can note
be exercised by this — those fellows
out there are no longer necessary—
but there will still be the unex-
pected, unforeseen emergencies that
will require human intelligence to
meet and cope with them. You and
I, I’m afraid, are still doomed to re-
main here and serve the machines.”

K ESTON shook his head, while I
little smile played over his
sharp-featured face, and a glow of
pride and triumph suffused his fine
dark eyes. “Grumbling again, old
carper. What would you say if I
told you that I have solved even that
problem? I have given my master
machine intelligence!"

My wide-eyed, questioning stare
must have conveyed my thought to
him, for he laughed shortly, and
said, “No, I’ve not gone insane."

“It was an accident,” he went on
with amazing calm. “My first ides
was merely to build something that
would reduce the necessary super-
visory force to one or two humans.
But, when I had almost completed
my second experimental model, I
found that I was out of the copper
filaments necessary to wind a certain
coil. I didn’t want to wait till I
could obtain more from the stores,
and remembered that on the inside

THE REVOLT OP THE MACHINES

•3

of the door to the Death Bath there
vas some fine screening that could
be dispensed with. I used the wire
from that. Whether the secret of life
as well as of death lies in those
waste rays from the sun, or whether
some unknown element of the hu-
mans consumed in the flame was de-
posited on the screening in a sort of
invisible coating, I do not know. But
this I do know: when that second
model was finished; and the vitaliz-
ing current was turned on, things
happened — queer things that could
be explained only on the ground that
the machine had intelligence."

He fell silent a moment, then his
thin pale lips twisted in a wry smile.
"You know, Meron, I was a little
scared. The thing I had created
seemed possessed of a virulent an-
tagonism toward me. Look.” He
bared an arm and held it out. A
livid weal ran clear around the fore-
arm. “One of the tentacles I had
given it whipped around my arm
like a flash. If I had not cut off the
current at once it might have
■lueezed through flesh and bone.
The pressure was terrific.”

I WAS about to speak, when from
the screen nearest the entrance
door a beam of green light darted
out, vanished, came again. Once,
twice, three times.

“Look, Chief, the signal. They’re
coming. The Council will soon be
here.”

“They're over-prompt. My mes-
sage must have aroused their curi-
osity. But listen:

"I incorporated my new thought
coil, as I called it, in the large mas-
ter machine. But, I don't know just
what will happen when the current
lows through that. So I shunted it.
The machine will work, routinely,
without it. There is a button that
will bring it into action. When I
■hall have taken the proper precau-
tions I will switch it on, and then we
■hall see what happens.”

We saw, sooner than Keaton ex-
pected.

Again the green beam -flashed out.
The great portals slowly opened.
Through them glided the three
travel cars of the Supreme Council
of the aristos.

It had been almost a year since I
saw them, the Over Lords of the
World, and I had forgotten their ap-
pearance. Sprawled on the glowing
silks of their cushioned couches,
eyes closed in languid boredom, they
were like huge white slugs. Swollen
to tremendous size by the indolent
luzuriousness of their lives, the
flesh that was not concealed by the
bright hued web of their robes was
pasty white, and bagged and folded
where the shrunken muscles be-
neath refused support. Greet
pouches dropped beneath swollen
eyelids. Full-lipped, sensual mouths
and pendulous cheeks merged into
the great fat rolls of their chins. I
shuddered. These, these were the
masters for whom we slaved I

A S we bent low the gliding cars
came to rest, and a warm redo-
lence of sweet perfume came to me
from the fans softly whirling in the
canopies over the aristos* heads.
Strains of music rose and fell, and
ceased as a flat, tired voice breathed:
“Rise, prolats.”

I straightened up. The eyes of the
Council were now opened, little pig's
eyes almost lost in the flesh about
them. They glinted with a cold, in-
human cruelty. I shuddered, and
thought of the night of terror ten
years before. And suddenly I was
afraid, deathly afraid.

Ladnom Atuna, head of the Coun-
cil, spoke again. “We have come at
your petition. What is this matter
so grave that it has led you to dis-
turb us at our pleasures?"

Keaton bowed low. “Your Excel-
lency, I would not have presumed to
intrude upon you for a small matter.
I have so greatly ventured hocanae

ASTOUNDING STORIES

I have at length solved the final step
in the mechanization of the world.
I have invented a master machine to
operate the switchboards in this hall
and replace the workers thereat.”
The flabby faces of the aristos be-
trayed not the slightest interest, not
the least surprise. Only Atuna
spoke: “Interesting, if true. Can
you prove your statement?”

Keston strode to the canvas screen
and pulled a cord. The great canvas
curtains rolled back. “Here is the
machine, my LordsJ” His face was
lit with the glow of pride of achieve-
ment. His voice had lost its rever-
ence. Rapidly he continued: "The
head of this contrivance is a bank of
photo- and sono-electric cells, each
facet focussed on one of the screens.
Through a nerve-systefti of copper
filaments any combination of lights
and sounds will actuate the proper
arm, which will shoot out to the re-
quired bank of buttons and press the
ones necessary to meet any particu-
lar demand. That is all the prolats
are doing out there, and they make
mistakes, while my master machine
cannot. The—”

But Ladnom Atuna raised a lan-
guid hand. “Spare us these technical
explanations. They bore us. All we
desire to know is that the machine
will do as you say.”

The chief flushed, and gulped. His
triumph was not meeting with the
acclaim he had expected. But he
bowed. “Very well. With your gra-
cious permission I shall demonstrate
its operation.” Atuna nodded in ac-
quiescence.

K ESTON’S voice rang out in
crisp command. “Attention,
prolats. Cease working.” The long
circling row suddenly jerked
around; their flying fingers halted
their eternal dartings. "Quickly,
down to the space in front of the
door to the Death Bath.” A rush of
hurried feet. These men and women
were accustomed to instant, unques-

tioning obedience. "Absolute si-
lence. Keep clear of the floor on
peril of your lives.”

The chief wheeled to the master
machine and pressed a button. In-
stantly, the hundreds of dangling
arms telescoped out, each to a button
bank where a. moment before a pro-
lat had labored. And, with a weird
simulation of life, the ten forked
ends of each arm commenced a rat-
tling pressing of the buttons. Rap-
idly, purposefully, the metallic fin-
gers moved over the keyboards, and
on the screens we could see that the
machines all over the world were
continuing on their even course. Not
the slightest change in their work-
ing betrayed the fact that they were
now being directed by a machine in-
stead of human beings. A great
surge of admiration swept me at the
marvelous accomplishment of my
friend.

Not so the aristos. Expressionless,
they watched as the maze of stretch-
ing tentacles vibrated through the
crowded air. Yet not quite expres-
sionless. I thought I could sense in
the covert glances they cast at one
another a crafty weighing of the im-
plications of this machine; a ques-
tion asked and answered; a decision
made. Then their spokesman turned
languidly to the waiting, triumphant
figure of Keston.

“Evidently your claims are proven.
This means that the force of prolat
operatives are no longer necessary.”

“Yes, Your Excellency. They may
now be released to a well earned re-
ward.”

The aristo ignored the interrup-
tion. “We take it that only two will
now be required to operate this Con-
trol Station, to supply the last modi-
cum of human intelligence required
to meet unforeseen emergencies."

1 SAW that Keston was about to
interrupt once more, to tell the
Council of the thought coil, the most
unbelievable part of the miracle he

THE REVOLT OP THE MACHINES

had wrought. But something seemed
to warn me that he should not speak.
Standing behind him I nudged him,
while I myself replied: “Yes, Your
gxcellency.” The chief flung me a
startled look, but did not correct me.

Prom the packed crowd of prolats
st the other end of the hall I could
hear a murmuring. While I could
not make out the words, the very
tones told me that in the hearts of
those weary slaves new hope was ris-
ing, the same hope that glowed in
Keston’s face. But I was oppressed
by an unreasoning fear.

Atuna was still talking, in his
cold, unemotional monotone. “This
twing so, hear now our decision. Kea-
ton and Meron, you will remain here
to meet all emergencies. You others,
your function is done. You have
done your work well, you are now
no longer needed to control the ma-
chines. Therefore," — he paused, and
my heart almost stopped — “there-
fore, being no longer of value, you
will be disposed of.”

A click sounded loud through the
manned silence. Beyond the white
crowd the huge black portal slid
•lowly open. A shimmering radi-
ance of glowing vapors blazed from
the space beyond.

“Prolats, file singly into the Death
Bath I” Atuna raised his voice only
•lightly with the command. I
glanced at Keston. He was livid
with fury.

Incredible as it may seem, so in-
grained was the habit of obedience
to the aristos in the prolats that not
even a murmur of protest came from
the condemned beings. The nearest
man to the flaming death stepped out
into the void. His doomed body
flared, then vanished. The next
saved to his turn.

B UT suddenly a great shout rang
out
“Stop I”

It was Keaton's voice, but so
changed, so packed with fury and

outrage, that I scarcely recognised
it.

His spare, tall form was drawn
tensely straight as he shook a
clenched fist at the Council. He was
quivering with anger, and his eyes
blazed.

“Aristos, you do wrong I These
men have served you faithfully and
well. I demand for them the reward
they have earned — rest and leisure,
and the pleasures that for ten years
they have seen you enjoy while they
worked here for you. They have
worked for you, I say, and now that
I have released them you would de-
stroy them. Aristos, I demand jus-
tice!”

For the first time I saw expression
on the flaccid faces of the Council —
surprise and astonishment that a
prolat should dare dispute an aristo
command. Then a sneer twisted
Atuna’s countenance.

“What is this? Who are you to
demand anything from us? We
spared these prolats because we
needed them : we need them no
longer, hence they must die. What
madness has seized you? Reward!
Justice! For prolats! As well say
we should reward the stone walls of
our houses; dispense justice to the
machines. Proceed, prolats!”

Keston made as if to spring for
the aristo’s throat. I put out a hand
to stop him. An invisible shield of
death rays rimmed the platforms the
Council used. It was suicide! But
suddenly be turned and sprang to
the master machine. He grasped a
switch lever and threw it down.

A long tentacle left its keys and
swished menacingly through the air.
“Meron, prolats, under the key-
boards!” came Keston’s shoutT I
dived to obey. Steel fingers clutched
my jerkin and tore it loose as I
landed with a thud against the wall.
Keston thumped alongside of me. He
was breathing heavily and his face
was deathly pale.

“Look!” he gasped.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

O UT on the floor was a shambles.

I saw one snakelike arm whip
around the stout form of Atuna,
then tighten. A shriek of agony rang
through the hall. Another tentacle
curled about the couch of a second
aristo, pinning the occupant to it.
Then couch and all were swung a
hundred feet in the air to be crashed
down with terrific force on the stone
floor. Two arms -seized the third at
the same time. . .)

“Too sluggish to get out of the
way in time, damn them!” I heard
Keston mutter. True, but not all the
prolats had moved fast enough at
the warning shout. Cowering under
the saving key-boards, shrinking
from the metallic arms not quite
long enough to reach them, I could
count only a score. The others — but
what use to describe the slaughter
out there ! I see it in nightmares too
often.

A thunder from the speakers grew
till it drowned out the agonized
shrieks in the great hall. On the
screens horror flared. All over the
world, it appeared, the machines had
gone mad. I saw Antarcha crash
as a dozen air freighters plunged
through the crystal towers. I saw a
huge dredge strip the roof from a
great playhouse, and smash the star-
tled crowd within with stones it
plucked from an embankment. I saw
untenanted land cars shooting wild
through packed, streets. Great pon-
derous tractors left the fields and
moved in ordered array on the panic-
stricken cities. Methodically they
pursued the fleeing aristos, and
crushed them beneath their tread
like scurrying ants.

1 REALIZED that the scraping of
the tentacles reaching for us had
ceased, that the arms had all re-
turned to the button banks. Then it
dawned on me that Keston’s master
machine was directing all the de-
struction I was watching, that the
intelligence he had given it was be-

ing used to divert the machines from
their regular tasks to— conquer the
world. "You sure started something,
Keston,” I said.

“Yes,” he gasped, white-faced,
“something that I should have ei-
pected when that model machine
went for me. Do you understand?
I’ve given the machines intelligence,
created a new race, and they are try-
ing to wipe out the humans ; conquer
the world for themselves. The pos-
sibility flashed on me when I was
half-mad with rage and disappoint'
ment at the callous cruelty of the
aristo Council. I threw that switch
with the thought that it would be
far better for all of us to be wiped
out. But now, I don’t know. After
all, they are men, like ourselves, and
it hurts to see our own race anni-
hilated. If only I can get to that
switch.”

He started to push out from unde/
the scant shelter, but an alert ten-
tacle hissed through the air in a
swift stab at him, and he dodged
back, hopelessly.

“Don’t be a damn fool,” I snapped
at him. “Forget that mushy senti-
mentality. Even if you save the aris-
tos, we’re due for extinction just the
same. Better that the whole human
race be wiped out together.”

Then a thought struck me. “May-
be we have a chance to get out of
this ourselves.”

“Impossible. Where could we hide
from the machines?" He waved a
hand at the screens. “Look.”

“The Glacier, man, the Glacier I”
He started. “There are no machines
out there. If we can get to the ice
we are safe.”

“But the aircraft will find us."

“They won’t know we’re there.
There are no microphones or radio-
eyes in the wastes."

A ROUGH voice came from the
cowering files behind us. “Hey,
Keston, let’s get a move on. You’re
the smart guy around here; get us

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

out of this mess you’ve started."

It was Abud. When so many bet-
ter prolats had perished, he was alive
and whole.

We got out, crawling under the
key-boards till we could make a dash
for the door. We emerged into a
world ablaze with the light of many
fires, and reverberating with the far
off crashing of destruction. To the
right we could see the tumbled re-
mains of what a short hour before
had been our barracks. Two digging
machines were still ponderously
moving about among the ruins,
pounding down their heavy buckets
methodically, reducing the concrete
structure to a horrible dead level.
Ten score prolats had been sleeping
there when I left.

As we rushed into the open, the
machines turned and made for us;
but they had not been built for
speed, and we easily outdistanced
them. The rest of that day will al-
ways remain a dim haze to me. I
can remember running, running,
Abud’s broad form always in the
lead. I can remember long minutes
of trembling under tangled under-
brush, while from above sounded the
burring of an air machine searching
ceaselessly for us. I can remember
seeing at last the tall white ramparts
of the Glacier. Then a blackness
swallowed me up, hands tugged at
me, and I knew no more.

T HE great white waste of hum-
mocky ice dazzled under the
blinding sun. My eyes were hurting
terribly. There was a great void in
my stomach. For two days I had not
eaten.

Keston, tottering weakly at my
tide, was in an even worse state. His
trembling hand could scarcely hold
the primitive bone-tipped spear. God
knows I had difficulty enough with
mine.

Yet, tired, hungry, shivering as
we were, we forced our dragging
' feet along, searching the intermina-

ble expanse for sign of polar bear or
the wild white dogs that hunted in
packs. We had to find flesh — any
kind — to feed our shriveled stom-
achs— or go under.

Keston uttered a weak shout. I
looked. From behind a frozen hum-
mock a great white bear padded. He
saw us, sniffed the air a moment,
then turned contemptuously away.
He must have sensed our weakness.

Almost crying in his eagerness,
Keston raised his spear and cast it
with what strength he had at the
animal that meant food and warmth
for our bodies.

The weapon described a slow arc,
and caught the shaggy bear flush in
the shoulder. But there had been no
force behind the throw. The sharp-
ened bone tip stuck in the flesh,
quivered a bit, and dropped harm-
lessly to the ice.

Aroused, the creature whirled
about. We caught a glimpse of small,
vindictive eyes. Then, with a roar, it
made for us.

“Look out!” I cried. Keston
started to run, but I knew he could
not match the wounded animal in
speed. I threw my futile spear, but
the bear shook it off as though it
were a pin, prick, and would not be
diverted from his prey.

I ran after, shouting for help.
Then Keston stumbled and went
down in a sprawl on the rough gray
ice. The bear was almost on him, and
there was nothing I could do.

T HEN the figure of a man darted
from behind a sheltering mound.
It was Abud, swathed in warm white
furs, brawny of body, strong, well
fed, heavy'jowfed. He swung easily
a long spear, tar heavier than ours,
and pointed with keen barbs.

He stopped short at the sight of
us, and his brutal featur«A r contorted
in merriment. The desperate plight
of my friend seemed to afford him
infinite amusement. Nor did he make
any move to help.

ASTOUNDING STORIES

I shouted to him. “Quick, kill it
before it's too late!”

“So it is Abud you turn to now,"
he sneered heavily. “Abud, whom
you thought deserving of the Death
Bath not so long ago. No, my fine
friends, let me see you help your*
selves, you two who thought you
were king pins down in the valley.
Men? Bah! Weaklings, that’s all you
are!”

I ran blindly over the uneven ice,
unarmed, some crazy notion in my
mind of tackling the brute with bare
fists, to drag him Off my friend.
Abud shouted with laughter, lean*
ing on his spear.

For some strange animal reason,
the mocking laughter enraged the
bear. He had almost reached the mo-
tionless figure of Kesttm when he
swerved suddenly, and made for
Abud.

The ghastly merriment froze on
the heavy jowled man. Like light-
ning he lifted his heavy lance, and
drove it with a powerful arm square-
ly into the breast of the advancing
brute. It sank a full foot into the
blubbery flesh, and, while the strick-
en bear clawed vainly at the wound
and sought to push himself along
toward the man, Abud held the spear
firmly as in a vise, so that the animal
literally impaled itself. With a gush
of blood, it sank motionless to the
ground.

A BUD plucked the spear away
with a dexterous twist.

Keston was feebly groping to his
feet. I was torn between joy at his
deliverance and rage at the inhuman
callousness of Abud.

The latter grinned at us hatefully.
“You see what poor weakling crea-
tures you are," he jeered. “Good for
nothing but to push a lot of sense-
less buttons. Down there you were
the bosses, the ones to look upon me
as dirt. Here, on the ice, where it
takeB guts to get along, I am the
boss. I let you live on my scraps and

leavings, simply because it tickled
me to see you cringe and beg. But I
am growing weary of that sport.
Henceforth you keep away from my
camp. Don’t let me catch you prowl-
ing around, d’you hear? Let's see
how long you’ll last on the ice!’’

“This animal is mine." He prod-
ded the carcass. “I killed it. I’ll
make the prolats skin and cut it up
for me. Ho-ho, how they cringe and
obey me — Abud, the dull one! Ho-
ho!”

On this he strode away, still laugh-
ing thunderously.

I looked to Keston in blank dis-
may. What was to be our fate now,
but death by cold and slow starva-
tion!

Three months had passed since we
had escaped to the ice from the
dreadful machines — a score of us.
For a while it seemed that we had
fled in vain. We were not fit to cope
with the raw essentials of life: it
was uncounted centuries since man
fought nature bare handed. So we
huddled together for warmth, and
starved. Even Keston’s keen brain
was helpless in this waste of ice,
without tools, without machines.

T HEN it was that Abud arose to
take command. He, dull brute
that he was amid the complexities of
our civilization, fairly reveled in
this primitive combat with hunger
and cold. He was an anachronism in
our midst, a throwback to our early
forebears.

It did not take him long to fashion
cunning nooses and traps to catch
the few beasts that roamed the ice.
Once he pounced upon a wolf-like
creature, and strangled it with bare
hands. He fashioned with apt fingers
spears and barbs of bone, curved
knives from shin bones, and skinned
the heavy fur pelts and made them
into garments.

No wonder the prolats in their
helplessness looked to him as their
leader. Keston and I were thrust

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

aside. But Abud did not forget. His
slow witted mind harbored deadly
rancor for former days, when we
were in command. He remembered
our contempt for his slow dull
processes; for the many errors he
was guilty of. By a queer quirk, the
very fact that Keston had saved him
from the Death Bath on several oc-
casions but fed the flames of his ha-
tred. Perhaps that was an ancient
human trait, too.

So he set himself to twit and hu-
miliate us. His jibes were heavy
handed and gross. He refused to let
us eat at the communal mess, but
forced us to wait until all were
through, when he tossed us a few
scraps as though we were dogs.

Many times I started up in hot
rage, ready to match my softened
muscles against his brawn. But al-
ways Keston caught me in time and
whispered patience. Some plan was
taking shape in his mind, I could
see, so I stopped short, and was con-
tent to bide my time.

Now we were through, discarded,
as a last brutal gesture. What was
there to be done now?

I N utter silence I looked at Kes-
ton. To my great surprise he did
not seem downcast. Quite the con-
trary. His eyes werfe sparkling, once
more alive with the red fire. The
weariness was gone from him; there
was energy, decision stamped on his
finely cut features.

“Now is our time to act,” he said.
“I’ve been hesitating too long."
“What are you talking about?”
“Abud forced my hand,” Keston
explained. “You didn’t think we
were going to live here in this fash-
ion the rest of our lives? I’d rather
die now than have such a future
staring me in the face. No, we’re go-
ing down into the valley to fight the
machines.”

I stared at him aghast. “Man,
you’re crazy. They’d crush us in a
minute I”

“Maybe,” he said unconcernedly.
“But we have no time to lose. Abud
will be back with the prolats, and
we’ll have to clear out before then.
Quick— cut off a few chunks of meat.
We’ll need them.”

“But Abud will kill us when he
finds out what's been done.”

“And we'll starve if we don’t.”
Which was an unanswerable argu-
ment. So with our bone knives we
hacked off gobs of the still warm
flesh, covered with great layers of
fat.

Looking up from my task, I saw
black figures coming toward us from
the direction of the camp. They
quickened into a run even as I no-
ticed them — Abud and the prolats.

“Quick, Keston,” I cried, "they’re
coming.”

Keston glanced around and started
to run. I followed as fast as I could.

“They’ll catch us,” I panted.
“Where can we hide?”

“Down in the valley.”

"But the machines will get us
then.”

“Save your breath and follow me.
I know a place.”

W E were racing along as fast
as our weakened legs could
carry us, toward the edge of the
Glacier. I looked back to see Abud,
his brute face distorted with rage,
gaining rapidly on us. The other
prolats were being outdistanced.

Abud shouted threateningly for us
to stop, but that only made us re-
double our efforts. I knew he would
kill us if he caught up with us. He
had his spear and we were without
ours.

The steep terminus of the great
Northern Glacier hove into view.
Far below was the broad fertile hab-
itable belt, stretching as far as the
eye could see. A lump rose in my
throat as I ran. It was our earth, ous
heritage down there — and here we
were, fleeing for our lives, dispos-
sessed by bits of metal and quartz.

100

ASTOUNDING STORIES

machines that we had fashioned.

Hovering in the air, on a level
with us, were scout planes, vigilant
guardians of the frontier.

Once a prolat had become crazed
by the eternal ice and cold, and had
ventured down the side of the Gla-
cier, to reach the warm lands his thin
blood hungered foty As <soon as he
had painfully clambered th^the bot-
tom, within the area of the televisors,
a plane had swooped and crushed
him, while we, lining the edge, had
witnessed the horror helplessly.

Yet Keston ran on confidently.
Abud was just a little "way behind,
bellowing exultantly, when we came
to the jumping-off place. He was
sure he had us now.

Keston slid from view. It was
sheer suicide to go down there, I
knew; yet, to remain where I was,
meant certain death. Abud’s spear
was already poised to thrust. There
was only one thing to do, and I did
it. I threw myself over the rim, just
where Keston had disappeared.

I LANDED with a thud on a nar-
row ledge of ice. The surface
was glassy smooth, and I started
slipping straight toward the outer
edge, a sheer drop of a thousand feet
to the valley below. I strove to re-
cover my balance, but only acceler-
ated my progress.. Another moment
and I would have plunged into the
abyss, but a hand reached out and
grabbed me just in time. It was
Keston.

“Hold tight and follow me,” he
whispered urgently, "we’ve no time
to lose. The master machine is see-
ing us now in the visor screen, and
will act.”

I had an impulse to turn back, but
Abud's face was leering down at us.

“I’ll get you for this!" he
screamed, and let himself down
heavily over the ledge.

Kenton edged his way along the
treacherous trail, I after him. It was
ticklish work. A misstep, and there

would be nothing to break our fall.

I heard a siren sound, then an-
other; and another. I wasted a pre-
cious moment to look up. A scout
plane was diving for us, on a terrific
slant. The air was black with air-
craft converging on us. The master
machine had seen us I I sensed utter
malevolence in the speed of these
senseless metals, thrown at us by the
thing my friend had created.

But there was no time for thought
In desperate haste, we inched our
way along. Abud had seen the peril,
too, and lost all his truculence in the
face of the greater danger. He
clawed after us, intent only on reach-
ing whatever safety we were heal-
ing for.

I could hear the zoom of the great
wings when the path took a suddea
turn and we catapulted headlong
into a black cavern thrusting into
the ice.

We were not an instant too soon.
For a giant shape swooped by our
covert with a terrifying swoosh,
inches away from Abud's leg -as he
dived after us, and it was followed
by a grinding crash. The machine
had been directed too close to the
ice and had smashed into bits.

W E crouched there a moment,
panting, struggling to regain
our wind. Keston had regained the
air of quiet power he had once pos-
sessed. Quietly he spoke to our
enemy.

“Listen to me, Abud. Up there on
the ice, you played the bully, relying
on your brute strength. Here, how-
ever, we’re up against the machines,
and your intelligence is of too low
an order to compete with them. You
need my brains now. If you expect
to escape from them, and live, you’ll
have to do exactly as I say. I'm boss,
do you understand?”

I expected a roar of rage at Kes-
ton’s calm assertion, and quietly got
in back of Abud, ready to jump him
if he made a threatening move.

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

101

But the big brute was a creature of
abject terror, staring out with fear-
baunted eyes. Quite humbly he re-
plied: “You are right. You are the
only one who can beat the machines.
I’ll follow you in everything.”

“Very well, then. This cave leads
through a series of tunnels down
through the ice to the bottom of the
valicy. I explored it nights when
you were all sleeping.”

I looked at him in amazement. I
had not known anything about his
midnight wanderings. He saw my
glance.

“I’m sorry, Meron, but I thought
it wiser to say nothing of my plans,
even to you, until they had matured.
Let us go.”

Outside hundreds of craft were
hurtling across the opening. Escape
that way was clearly impossible.

“No doubt the master machine is
hurrying over high explosives to
blast us out,” Keston said indiffer-
ently; “but we won’t be here.”

We started down a tortuous de-
cline, crawling on hands and knees.
We had not progressed very far
when we heard a thud and a roar be-
hind us, followed by a series of
crashes.

"Just as I thought. The master
machine is firing terminite into the
cavern. What a high degree of in-
telligence that thing has! Too bad
we’ll have to smash it.” He sighed. I
verily believe he hated to destroy
this brain child of his. Yet just how
he was going to do it, I did not
know.

T HERE passed hours of weary,
tortured stumblings, and slith-
erings, and sudden falls — down, al-
ways down, interminably. A pale
glimmering showed us the way, a
dim shining through the icy walls.

At last, faint with toil, bleeding
,ind ten from glass-sharp splinters,
we reached a level chamber, vaulted,
lurprisingly, with solid rock. It was
good to see something of the earth

again, something that was not that
deadly, all-embracing ice. At the far
end lay a blinding patch. I blinked.
“Sunlight!” I shouted joyously.
“Yes,” Keston answered quietly.
“That opening leads directly into
the valley on our land.”

Abud roused himself from the un-
reasoning dread he had been in. It
was the first time he had spoken.

“Let us get out of here. I feel as
though I'm in a tomb.”

"Are you mad?” Keston said sharp-
ly. “The visors would pick you up
at once. You wouldn’t last very
long.”

Abud stopped suddenly. There
was a plaintive, helpless note to him.
“But we can't stay here forever.
We'd starve, or die of cold. Isn’t
there some way to get back to the
top of the Glacier?"

“No— only the way we came. And
that’s been blocked with terminite.”
“Then what are we going to do?
You’ve led us into a slow death, you
with your boasted brains!”

“That remains to be seen,” was the
calm retort. “In the meantime, we’re
hungry. Let us eat.”

And the amazing man drew out of
his torn flapping furs the gobs of
meat he had cut from the dead bear.
I had quite forgotten them. With a
glad cry, I too reached into my gar-
ments and brought out my supply.

A BUD’S eyes glinted evilly. His
hand stole stealthily to the
bone knife in its skin sheath. His
spear had been dropped long before.

“None of that,” Keston said sharp-
ly. “We’ll all share equally, even
though you have no food. But if you
try to hog it all, or use force, you’ll
die as well as we. There’s only
enough for a meal or two ; and then
what will you do?"

Abud saw that. He needed Kes-
ton’s brains. His eyes dropped, and
he mumbled something about our
misunderstanding his gesture. We
let it go at that. We had to. H»

102

ASTOUNDING STORIES

could have killed us both i£ he
wished.

So we divided our food with pains-
taking fairness. How we gorged on
the raw red flesh and thick greasy
fat! Food that would have disgusted
us when we lived and worked in the
Central Station, now was ambrosia
to our sharpened appetites. When
not the least scrap was left, and we
had slaked our thirst with chunks of
ice from the cavern floor. I spoke.

“What is that plan you spoke of,
Keston, for reconquering the earth
from the machines?"

Abud looked up abruptly at my
question, and it seemed to me that a
crafty smile glinted in the small pig
eyes.

Keston hesitated a moment before
he spoke.

“I confess my plan? have been ma-
terially impeded by this sudden pre-
dicament we find ourselves in, thanks
to our good friend here." He ironi-
cally indicated Abud.

The big prolat merely^grunted.

“However,” Keston continued, “I'll
have to make the best of circum-
stances, without the aid of certain
materials that I had expected to as-
semble.

“The idea is a simple one. You've
noted no doubt how the terminus of
the Glacier opposite the Central
Control Station overhangs. The
brow, over a thousand feet up, ex-
tends out at least a hundred feet be-
yond the base.”

1 NODDED assent, though Abud
seemed startled. Many times had
Keston and I speculated on the dan-
ger of an avalanche at this point, and
wondered why the Station had been
built in such an exposed place. Once
indeed we had ventured to suggest
to the aristo Council the advisability
of removing the Central Control to
some other point, but the cold silence
that greeted our diffident advice de-
terred us from further pursuit of the
subject.

“Now, you know as well as I," Kes-
ton resumed, “that a glacier is mere-
ly a huge river of ice, and, though
solid, partakes of some of the quali-
ties of freely flowing water. As a
matter of fact, glaciers do flow, be-
cause the tremendous pressure at the
bottom lowers the melting point of
ice to such a degree that the ice
actually liquefies, and flows along."

I followed him eagerly in these
elementary statements, trying to
glimpse what he was driving at, but
Abud's brute features were fixed in a
blank stare.

“This glacier does move. We’ve
measured it — a matter of an inch or
two a day. If, however,” — Keston's
voice took on a deeper note — “we
can manage to hasten that process,
the Glacier will overwhelm the coun-
tryside.”

He paused, and that gave me a
chance to interpose some objections.

“But hold on a moment. In the
first place it is an absolute impossi-
bility with the means at our com-
mand, or even with every appliance,
to melt the face of the whole North-
ern Glacier. In the second place,
even if we could, the whole world
would be overwhelmed, and then
where would we be?”

K ESTON looked at me a trifle
scornfully. “Who said we were
going to melt the entire glacier? Re-
member I spoke only of the place of
the overhang. Set that in motion,
and we don’t have; to worry about the
problem any further.”

“Why not?” I| inquired incredu-
lously. “Suppose you do wipe out all
the machines in this particular vi-
cinity, won't there be tremendous
numbers left all through the Equa-
torial Belt?"

“Of course,” he explained pa-
tiently, “and what if they are? What
are all these machines but inanimate
mechanisms, things of metal and
r ubber and quartz, What makes them
the monsters they have become?”

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

103

I smote my forehead in anger.
“What a fool ! Now I see it. It’s the
master machine you’re after.”
“Exactly," he smilingly agreed.
“Overwhelm, destroy this devilish
creature of mine, with its unhuman
intelligence, and the machines are
what they were before: merely obe-
dient slaves.”

I pondered that a moment. “And
bow, may I ask, are you going to
force this old Glacier to move.”

His face clouded. “That’s the trou-
ble. Up on the ice I was working on
that problem, and had managed se-
cretly to rig up a contrivance that
would have done the trick. But we
can’t go back for it. That way is
blocked." He mused, half to himself.
“If only we could lay our hands on
a solar 'disintegrating machine, the
difficulty would be solved.”

At the name, Abud’s face, that had
been a study in blank incomprehen-
sion, lit up.

“Solar disintegrating machine?”
be inquired. “Why there’s one sta-
tioned not more than a few hundred
yards away from here. This area,
2-RX, was my sector, you know.”
“Of course, of course,” shouted
Keston, “I’d quite forgotten. The
very thing. You’re not half bad,
Abud, if you’d only stop trying to
rely on brute strength instead of
brains,” he concluded.

Abud said nothing, but I noticed a
quick flash of hatred that passed in
an instant, leaving a blank counte-
nance. I thought to myself, “You’ll
bear watching, my fine fellow. I
don’t trust you at all.”

K ESTON was speaking. “We’ll
have to wait until nightfall.
The master machine won’t expect us
down at the base, so I’m positive the
search-rays won’t be focussed along
the ground. We’ll sneak to the ma-
chine, smash its visor and radio
units, so it won’t give the alarm, and
haul it back. Then I’ll show you
what’s next to be done.”

Night came at last, leaden footed,
though we were burning with impa-
tience. Very softly we crawled out
of the cave, three shadows. Fortu-
nately there was no moon. The great
Glacier loomed ominously above us,
dimly white. High overhead hovered
the green signal lights of the ma-
chine planes, their search rays fo-
cussed in blinding glares on the rim
of the upper ice.

It did not take us long to find the
dark bulk of the disintegrator. It
was a squat cylinder, for all the
world like a huge boiler. At one end
there up-ended a periscope arrange-
ment which broadened out to a fun-
nel. In the funnel was a very power-
ful lens, cut to special measurements.
The light of the sun, or any light,
for that matter, was concentrated
through the lens onto a series of
photo-electric cells, composed of an
alloy of selenium and the far more
delicate element, illinium. A high
tension current was there created, of
sach powerful intensity that it dis-
integrated the atoms of every ele-
'ment except osmium and indium into
tlreir constituent electro^. Conse-
quently the interior as well as the
long slit nozzle orifice at the other
end, were made of these resistant
metals.

Through a special process the tre-
mendously powerful current was
forced through the wide-angled noz-
zle in a spreading thin plate ray that
sheared through earth and rock and
metals as if they were butter.

Such was the machine we were
after.

I T was but the work of a few sec-
onds to smash the delicate tele-
vision and sono-boxes placed on the
top of every machine. Now we were
sure no warning could be given the
master machine as it sat in its metal-
lic cunning at the control board,
ceaselessly receiving its messages
from the area apparatus focussed
above it.

104

ASTOUNDING STORIES

Quietly, very quietly, we trundled
the precious instrument along on its
wheel base. The green lights dotted
the sky above: the search-rays were
firmly set on the rim.

At last, without any untoward
alarm, we reached the welcome shel-
ter of the base, but not, as I had ex-
pected, back to our tunnel. On the
contrary, Keston, who had directed
the party, had led -us almost a quar-
ter mile away. I looked up again,
and understood.

The great overhang of the Glacier
was directly above us I

Without a word, with hardly a
sound, we trundled the disintegrator
into a natural niche we'Tound in the
icy surface. It was almost com-
pletely hidden; only the funnel with
its lens protruded into the open. The
nozzle orifice was pointing directly
at the interior of the ice pack.

“Now everything is set properly,”
Keston remarked with satisfaction
as he straightened up from adjust-
ing the various controls on the ma-
chine. “When the first ray of the
morning sun strikes the lens, the dis-
integrator will start working. It will
shear through a layer of ice over a
radius of at least a mile. That huge
crevasse, coupled with the terrific
heat andthe pressure from the moun-
tain of ice above, will start the whole
Glacier moving, or I’ll be very much
mistaken."

“Come, let us get back to our shel-
ter before the alarm is given.”

A S he started to move, a dark
bulk loomed ominously in
front of us — Abud. His voice was
harsh, forbidding.

“Do you mean to say nothing fur-
ther is to be done here — that the dis-
integrator will work without any at-
tention?”

“That is just what I said," Keston
replied, somewhat surprised. “Step
aside, Abud, and let us go. It is
dangerous to remain here."

But Abud made no move to com-

ply. Instead he thrust back his great
shaggy head and gave vent toara
sounding laugh.

“Ho-ho, my fine friends I So you
were the brainy ones, eh? And Abud,
the obedient dull-wit again? How
nicely you’ve been fooled 1 I waited
until you accommodatingly evolved
the plan to reconquer the world, and
put it into effect.

“Now that you’ve done so, I’ve no
further need for you.” The voice
that heavily tried to be mocking, now
snarled. “You poor fools, don’t you
know that with you out of the way,
I, Abud, will be the Lord of the
World. Those prolats up there know
better than to disobey me.”

“Do you mean you intend to kill
us?” Keston asked incredulously.

“So you’ve actually grasped the
idea!" was the sarcastic retort.

Meanwhile I was gradually edging
to the side, my hand reaching for the
bone knife in my bosom.

A BUD saw my movement. “No,
you don’t I” he roared, and
sprang for me, \ his long gleaming
knife uplifted. I tugged desperately
at my weapon, bjut it was entangled
in the ragged furs. In a moment he
was on top of me. Involuntarily I
raised my arm to ward off the threat-
ened blow, raging despair in my
heart.

The point fell, but Keston struck
at the savage arm with all his might,
deflecting the blade just in time
It seared my shoulder like a red hot
iron, and in the next instant all three
of us were a rolling, kicking, snarl-
ing trio of animals. We fought des-
perately in the dark. There were no
rules of the game. Biting, gouging,
kicking— everything went.

Keston and I, weakened as we were
from long starvation and the biting
cold, were no match for our power-
ful, huge-muscled opponent, well
clad and well nourished as he was.
Though we fought with the strength
of despair, a violent blow from bis

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

105

huge fist knocked Keston out of the
fight. Hairy fingers grasped my
throat. “I’ll break your neck for
you,” he snarled, and his hands tight-
ened. I struggled weakly, but I
was helpless. I could just see his
hateful face grinning at my contor-
tions.

I was passing out — slowly, hor-
ribly. Keston was still motionless.
Colored lights danced before my
eyes, little spots that flared and died
out in crashing blackness. Then the
whole world leaped into a flaming
white, so that my eyeballs hurt. In
the dim recesses of my pain-swept
mind I thought that strangulation
must end like this. The brightness
held dazzlingly.

B UT suddenly a fiercer pain
swept into my consciousness—
the pain of gasping breath forcing
air through a tortured gullet into
suffocating lungs.

I struggled up into the fierce il-
lumination. From a sitting position
I saw Abud, now clearly visible as
in midday, craning his head way
back. I looked, too— and, in spite of
my stabbing gasps for air, jumped to
my feet. The search-rays from the
scout planes were focussed directly
on us!

I knew what that meant. The sight
of us was even then being cast upon
the 2-RX visor-screen in the Central
Control Station. The devilish mas-
ter machine was even then manipu-
lating the proper buttons. We had
not a second to lose !

My strangled throat hurt horribly,
but I managed a hoarse yell, “Run!”
and I tottered to where Keston yet
lay, bathed in the deadly illumina-
tion, unmoving.

There was a snarl of animal fear
from Abud, and he Btarted to run,
wildly, with never a backward glance
at us.

Even in my own fear, expecting
each instant the crash of terminite
about me, I managed to hurl a last

word at the fleeing figure. “Cow-
ard !” That relieved my feelings con-
siderably.

I tottered over and tugged at Kes-
ton. He was limp. I looked up. Hun-
dreds of planes were converging
overhead ; the night was a criss-cross
of stabbing search-rays. I lifted my
friend and slung him across my
shoulder. Every exertion, every
move, was accompanied by excru-
ciating agony, but I persevered.
Abud was already halfway to the
tunnel, running like mad.

Then, what I had dreaded, hap-
pened. There came a swoosh through
the night, a dull thud, a blinding
flash and roar that paled the search-
rays into insignificance. The first
terminite bomb had been dropped!

For a moment the landscape was
filled with flying rocks and huge
chunks of ice. When the great
clouds of violently upthrown earth
had settled, there was no sign of
Abud. He had been directly in the
path of the explosion!

S TAGGERING under my load,
I headed as close to the ice pack
as I could. There was no safety out
in the open. I groaned heavily past
the disintegrator, whose very ex-
istence I had forgotten in the crash
of events.

A sizzling hum, a thin eddy of
steam, halted me in my tracks. I
stared. The machine was working!
Even as I watched, a great wedge
was momentarily being driven fur-
ther and further into the ice — a great
fan-shaped wedge. Clouds of steam
billowed out, growing thicker and
heavier. -A rushing stream of un-
leashed water was lapping at my feet.

I was bewildered, frankly .so.
What had started the disintegrator
in the dead of night? “Of course!” I
shouted exultantly to the limp body
on my shoulder.

For a search-ray was fixed steadily
on the funnel. There it was. From
that blinding light the machine was

106

ASTOUNDING STORIES

getting the energy it needed. If only
the visor did not disclose that little
bit of metal to the unwinking master
machine! I looked again and took
heart. It was almost undistinguish-
able against the dazzling blur of ice
in the fierce white light. If those rays
held, the salvation of the world was
assured! )

There was only one way to do it.
I shrank at my own thoughts, yet
there was no alternative: it must be
done. I was hidden from the rays
under a projection of ice, terminite
bombs were dropping methodically
over a rapidly devastated sector with
methodical regularity. Sooner or
later the master machine would feel
that we were exterminated, and the
search-rays switched off. That would
mean that the disintegrator would
cease working, and the whole plan
fall through. In the morning light,
the sector signalling apparatus, at
the first sign of renewed activity,
would give warning, and the unhu-
man thing of metal at the controls
would discover and wreck our last
hope.

No, I must walk boldly into the
bombed area and discover myself as
alive in the visors of the planes and
make them continue to bomb and
throw their search-rays on the
scarred plain. That meant the dis-
integrator would receive the vital
light.

But how about Keston? I couldn’t
leave him there on the ground, mo-
tionless, while I deserted him. Nor
could I take him with me. I was
prepared to take my 'chances with
almost certain death, but I could not
trifle with his life so. I was in an
agony of indecision.

J UST then the form on my aching
shoulder stirred, sighed, strug-
gled a bit, and suddenly slid down
to a standing position. Keston
swayed unsteadily a moment,
straightened, looked about him in
amazement.

“What’s happening here?” he de-
manded.

“Why, you old war horse," I
shouted in my relief, “I thought you
were out of the picture completely I"

“Not me,” he answered indig-
nantly. “I’m all right. But you
haven't answered my question.”

A terminite bomb exploded not so
far away from where we stood. I
ducked involuntarily, Keston doing
likewise

“There's the answer," I grinned,
“and a rather neat one, too. But I’ll
explain.”

In a few words : I sketched what
had happened, and: showed him the
disintegrator spreading its deadly
waves of destruction. By now there
was a torrent enveloping us up to
our knees. We would have to move
soon, or be drowned in the 6lowly
rising water.

Then, hesitatingly, I told him of
my scheme to keep the search-rays
in action. His lean face sobered, but
he nodded his head bravely. “Of
course, that is the only way to keep
them at it. You and I will start at
once, in separate directions, so that
if they get one, the other will con-
tinue to draw the search-rays down
on the plain, and into the disintegra-
tor.”

“Not you, Keston,” I dissented in
alarm. “Your life is too valuable.
Your brain and skill will be needed
to remodel the world and make it
habitable for the few prolats that are
left, after the machines are wiped
out.”

“You’re just as valuable a man as I
am,” he lied affectionately. “No, my
mind is made up. We chance this to-
gether.” And to all my pleadings he
was obdurate, insisting that we each
take an equal risk.

I gave in at last, with a little choke
in my throat. We shook hands with
a steady grip, and walked out into
the glare of light, on divergent
paths. Would I ever see my friend
again?

THE REVOLT OF THE MACHINES

187

T HERE was a pause of seconds
as I walked on and on; came
then an earth-shattering crash that
flung me to the ground. The visors
had caught the picture of me! I
picked myself up, bruised and sore,
but otherwise unharmed. I started
to run.

The sky was a blaze of zooming
planes thatjiurled destruction on the
land beloVrJ Far off could be heard
the rumbling roar of hurrying ma-
chines — tractors, diggers, disintegra-
tors, levelers, all the mighty mobile
masses of metal that man’s brain had
conceived — all hurrying forward in
massed attack to seek out and de-
stroy their creators, obedient to the
will of a master machine, immobile,
pressing buttons in the Central Con-
trol System.

The night resolved itself into a
weird phantasmagoric nightmare for
me, a gigantic game of hide-and-
seek, in which I was “it." Gasping,
choking, flung to earth and stunned
by ear-shattering explosions, stag-
gering up somehow, ducking to
avoid being crushed beneath the pon-
derous treads of metal monsters that
plunged uncannily for me, sobbing
aloud in terror, swerving just in time
from in front of a swinging crane, in-
stinctively side-stepping just as a
pale violet ray swept into nothing-
ness all before it — I must have been
delirious, for I retain only the
vaguest memory of the horror.

And all the time the guiding
search-rays blazed down upon the
torn and shattered fields, and the dis-
integrator, unnoticed in the vast up-
roar, steadily kept up its deadly
work.

At last, in my delirium and terror,
I heard a great rending and tearing.
I looked up, and a tractor just missed
me as it rolled by on swishing
treads. But that one glance was
enough. The ice cap was moving,
flowing forward, a thousand-foot
wall of ice! Great billowing clouds
of steam spurted from innumerable

cracks. The deed had been done!
The world was saved for mankind!

Summoning the last ounce of
strength, I set off on a steady run
for the shelter of the rock cave, to be
out of the way when the final smash-
up came.

I WAS not pursued. The ponder-
ous machines, thousands of them,
were hastily forming into solid ranks
directly in front of the tottering gla-
cier wall. The master machine had
seen its impending fate in the visors,
and was organizing a defense.

Even in my elation, I could not
but feel unwilling admiration for
this monstrous thing of metal and
quartz, imbued with an intelligence
that could think more coolly and
quickly than most humans.

Yet I did not stop running until I
reached the cave. My heart gave a
great bound. For there, peering anx-
iously with worn face into the grow-
ing dawn, stood the figure of Keston
— my friend whom I had never ex-
pected to see alive again.

“Meron!” he shouted. “Is it you
— or your ghost?”

“The very question I was about to
ask you," 1 parried. “But look, old
friend : see what your genius has ac-
complished — and is now destroying."

The mountain of ice was flowing
forward, gathering speed on the way.
At an invisible signal, the massed
machines — thousands on thousands
of them — started into action. Like
shock troops in a last desperate as-
sault they ground forward, a serried
line that exactly paralleled the
threatened break, and hundreds deep.
This old earth of ours had never
witnessed so awe-inspiring a sight.

They smashed into that moving
wall of ice with the force of un-
counted millions of tons. We could
hear the groaning and straining of
furiously turning ntachinery as they
heaved. f'

Keston an^T-tooked at each other
in amazement. The master machine

108

ASTOUNDING STORIES

was trying to hold back the mighty
Glacier by the sheer power of its
cohorts !

A WILD light sprang into Kes-
ton's eye— of admiration, of re-
gret. “What a thing is this that I
created !” he muttered. “If only — ” I
truly believe that for'^ moment he
half desired to see hip brain-child
triumph.

The air was hideous with a thou-
sand noises. The Glacier wall was
cracking and splitting with the noise
of thunderclaps; the machines were
whirring and banging and crashing.
It was a gallant effort I
But the towering ice wall was not
to be denied. Forward, ever forward,
it moved, pushing inexorably the
struggling machines before it, piling
them up high upon one another,
grinding into powder the front
ranks.

And to cap it all, the huge over-
hang, a thousand feet high, was
swaying crazily and describing ever
greater arcs.

“Look!” I screamed and flung up
my arm. Great freight planes were
flying wing-to-wing, head-on for the
tottering crag— deliberately smash-
ing into the topmost point.

“Trying to knock it back into equi-
librium!" said Keston, eyes ablaze,
dancing about insanely.

But the last suicidal push did not
avail. With screams as of a thousand
devils and deafening rending roars,
the whole side of the Glacier seemed
to lean over and fall in a great earth-
shattering crescendo of noise.

While we watched, fascinated,
-rooted to die ground, that thousand
feet of glittering wall described a
tremendous arc, swinging with in-
creasing momentum down, down,
down to the earth it had so long been
separated from.

The clamoring machines were
buried under, lost in a swirl of ice
and snow. Only the Central Station
remained, a few moments defiant un-
der the swift onrush of its unfeel-
ing foe.

With a crash that could have been
heard around the world, the upper-
most crag struck the Station. The
giant Glacier wall was down. The
earth, the sky, the universe was filled
with ice, broken, shattered, torn,
splintered, vaporized !

The ground beneath our feet
heaved and tumbled in violent quake.
We were thrown heavily — and I
knew no more.

1 WELTERED out of uncon-
sciousness. Keston was chafing
my hands and rubbing my forehead
with ice. He smiled wanly to find me
still alive. Weak and battered, I
struggled to my feet.

Before me was a wilderness of ice,
a new mountain range of gigantic
tumbled blocks of dazzling purity.
Of the embattled machines, of the
Central Control Station, there was
not a sign. They were buried for-
ever under hundreds of feet of
frozen water.

I turned to Keston and shook his
hand. “You’ve won; you’ve saved the
world. Now let’s get the prolate and
start to rebuild.”

There was no trace of exultation
in Keston’s voice. Instead, he unac-
countably sighed as we trudged up a
narrow winding path to the top.
“Yes," he said half to himself, “I’ve
done it. But. ”

“But what?" I asked curiously.
“That beautiful, wonderful ma-’
chine I created!" he burst forth in
sudden passion. “To think that it
should lie down there, destroyed, a
twisted mass of scrap metal and
broken glass I”

Only noar tkt l£nd of tho World
doe* Foie catch up with Tugh, tho
cripple who ran amuck through
Tima.

CHAPTER XX

Following Tugh's Vibration-Trail

W ITHIN the subterranean
room of the cavern of
machinery, Mary Atwood
and I sat on the couch.
Our guard, Migul the Robot, fronted
us with the white-ray cylinder in
its metal fingers — the only mecha-
nism to be armed with this deadly
weapon*

“I am your friend,” Mary was say-
ing with a smile. "Do you believe
that, Migul?”

The Robot
bracoi
ilstlf.

The Exile
of Time

By Ray Cummings

CONCLUSION

109

110

ASTOUNDING STORIES

"Yes. If you say so. But I have
my orders.”

“You have treated me kindly, and
I want to help you. But you are not
very clever, Migul.”

“I am clever. I went beyond con-
trol once. No one can control me.”
"Except Tugh,” Mary persisted.
“You never went beyond his control,
Migul.” "\

"No. His control — he is different :
he holds such great power.”

“But why is he different?”

The towering mechanism stood
planted firmly upon the broad bases
of its metal feet. The weapon in
its fingers still covered us. Its metal-
cast face held always the same ex-
pression.

"Why is he different?” Mary re-
peated gently. "Don’t you hear
me?”

T HE Robot started. “Yes, I hear
you.” Its toneless, mechanical
voice droned the words. Then the
tempo quickened ; the grid of wires in
the mouth aperture behind its parted
lips vibrated with a faint jangle.
“I hear you. I cannot answer that
question. He controls me. There is
chaos — here,” — one of the hands
came up and struck its breastplate
with a clang — “chaos, disorder, here
within me when I try to disobey
him.”

“That is foolish, Migul. He is a
tyrant. All the humans of this era
are tyrants. They have made slaves
of the Robots. They have created
you so that you are really human in
all except your power of independent
action. Don’t you desire that,
Migul?”

I held my breath. A curious quak-
ing ran over the Robot's frame. The
joints twitched. Emotion was sweep-
ing this thing so nearly human I
“Mary Atwood, you seem to un-
derstand me.”

“Of course I do. I am from a
Time when we had human slaves:
black men, Migul. I knew how they

suffered. There is something in
slavery that outrages the instinct of
manhood.”

Migul said with a jangling
vehemence :

“Perhaps, some time, I can go be-
yond Tugh’s control. I am strong.
My cables pull these arms with a
strength no human could have.”
“You are so much stronger than
Tugh. Forget his control, Migul.
I am ashamed of you — a big, power-
ful thing like you, yielding always
to a little cripple."

T HE Robot straightened and
said, “I can resist him. I feel
it. Some day I will break loose.”
“Do it now, Migul!”

I tensed. Would she prevail?
“Now, Migul!” she repeated.

“No! He would derange mel I
am afraid !”

“Nonsense.”

“But his vibrations — the vibrations
of his thoughts— even now I can
feel them. They made my mecha-
nism too sensitive. I cannot resist
Tugh”

“You can I”

There was a silence. I stared at
the Robot's motionless frame. What
electrical, mechanical thoughts were
passing within that metal skull!
What emotions, what strange strug-
gle, what warfare of nameless etheric
vibrations of will power were taking
place unseen beneath that inert ex-
terior!

Perhaps something snapped.
Migul said suddenly, “I am beyond
control! At last I am beyond con-
trol I”

The ray cylinder lowered to point,
at the floor. A wild thought swept
me that I could snatch it. But of
what use would that be? Its ray
would decompose all human flesh,
but it would not harm a Rojpot; and
if I startled Migul, fought with him
in the confines of this narrow room,
he would kill Mary and me in a
moment.

THE EXILE OP TIME

M ARY was gripping me. “Don’t
move, George !" she cautioned ;
then turned again to the Robot. “I
am glad, Migul. Now you are truly
human. And we are all friends here,
because we all hate and fear Tugh — ”
“I fear him not I”

I could feel Mary trembling with
the strain of all this. But she had
the strength to muster a laugh.

“Don’t you fear him — just a little,
Higul? We do. Fear is a human
thing.”

“Then yes, I fear him."

“Of course you do," I put in. “And
the real truth, Migul, is I wish he
were dead. Don’t you?”

“Yes. I wish he were dead."
“Well, sit down," I persisted. “Put
that weapon away : I’m afraid of
that, too. Sit down and we will talk
about Tugh’s death."

The Robot placed the weapon on
the floor, disconnected the wires,
opened the plate of its chest and
took out the small battery. And then
it squatted its awkward bulk on the
floor before us/ Gruesome confer-
ence, with this huge mechanical
thing apeing the ways of a man I
I knew that haste was necessary,
but did not dare show it. Above
everything we must not be precipi-
tate; not startle the Robot. At worst,
if Tugh should return, I could seize
this weapon at my feet and turn it
upon him.

I MURMURED to Mary. “You did
itl Let me plan something, now.
If Migul can lead us. ...”

I added, “Migul, could you follow
Tugh? He said he was going to talk
to the Robot leaders. And then,
probably, he went to Princess Tina.
Could you follow him to where he
is now?” (

“Yes. I can follow him by his
vibration-scent. I am sensitive to it,
I have been with him so much. But
he 'can never again control me!"

“When we have killed him, Migul,
that will be ended forever.”

1H.

“Killed him?" It seemed to
frighten the Robot. “I do not know
that I would dare!”

“You lead me to him,” I said, “and
I’ll kill him. Have no fear of that,
Migul. We will work together — hu-
man friends."

“Yes. Human friends. What do
you want me to do?”

Asking for orders! So nearly hu-
man, yet always something was lack-
ing!

“Lead us to Tugh," I said prompt-
ly. “And give me that weapon.”

I made a tentative reach for it,
and the Robot pushed it toward me.
I connected it and made sure I could
fire it: its operation was obvious.
Then I stuffed the whole thing in
my jacket pocket; and always after-
ward my hand at intervals went to
that cool, sweating little cylinder..
What a comfort that weapon was !

I stood up. “Shall we go now?
Migul, we will have to plan what
to do according to where we find
Tugh. Do not go too fast; let us
keep close behind you.

“Us?" The Robot was on its feet.
“Do you mean this girl?"

W HAT was this? My heart
sank. I noticed, too, that
Migul was planted firmly between
us and the door.

“Why, of course, Migul. We can’t
leave her here.”

“She is not going.”

“Why not?” I demanded. “Of
course she’s going.” I tried an ex-
periment. “Migul, I order you to
let us out of here."

The Robot stood inert.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand you.”

“It is an order. Think about it.
I control you now. Isn’t that so?"

My heart sank. Whatever the mys-
terious science involved in my deal-
ing with this mechanism, I was not
operating it correctly. The Robot
did not move. Finally it said:

“No one — nothing — controls me.

112

ASTOUNDING STORIES

I have an independent impulse of
my own. The girl must stay here
until we return.”

Mary gave a faint cry and sank
back to the couch, a huddled white
heap in her satin dress. I thought
she had fainted, but she raised her
face to me and tried to smile.

“But I won’t leave her, Migul.”
“She must stay.”

"But why? If you are human now,
you must act with a reason.”

"Then because, if we fail to kill
Tugh, I would not have him con-
front me with the knowledge I have
released this girl. He would de-
range me; end me.”

“I will stay,” said Mary faintly.

"You go, George. But come back to

__ _ »»
me.

I bent over her; suggested, “If
we locked this door so Tugh could
not get in — ”

Migul said, “I can do that. She
will be safer here than with us. I
have other reasons. She is dressed
in white — a mark to betray us if we
go in darkness. And she is that
kind of a human you call a girl —
and that style human cannot travel
fast, nor fight.”

I T occurred to me that Mary might
very well be safer here.

Again I leaned over her. "It seems
horrible to leave you alone.”

"I’ll stay. It may be best.” Her
smile was pathetically tremulous.
"Lock me in so Tugh — so nothing
outside— can reach me. But, oh,
George, Come back quickly!”

"Yes.” I bent lower, and whis-
pered, "It’s Larry, not Tugh I real-
ly want to find — he and that Princess
Tina. We’ll come back and get you,
and then all of us will get away in
one of the Time-cages. That’s all
I want, Mary — to get us safely out
of this accursed Time-world.”
Migul said, “I am ready to start.”
I pressed Mary’s hand. "Good-
by. I will come back soon, God will-
ing.

“Yes. God willing.”

I left her sitting there and turned
away. Migul slid the door open,
letting in the hum and buzz of the
machinery outside. But I saw that
the attending Robots had all van-
ished. There was no mechanism of
independent locomotion left.

Mary repeated, “Lock the door
carefully upon me. Oh, George,
come back to me!”

I essayed a smile and a nod as
the door slid closed upon her.

“Is it locked, Migul?”

“Yes. Sealed.”

“You are sure Tugh cannot open
it? He did before.”

“I have set my own lock-series.
He will find it does not open.”
“Show me how to open it.”

T HE Robot indicated the combi-
nation. I verified it by trying it
I said once more, “You are sure
Tugh cannot do this?”

“Yes. I am sure.”

Was the Robot lying to me? Could
a Robot lie? I had to chance it.

“All right, let’s start. Where was
Tugh to meet those Robot leaders?”
"Out here. He has already met
them without doubt, and gone some-
where else.”

"He said he was going to the Prin-
cess Tina. Where would that be?”
“Probably in the palace.”

"Can we get there?”

I had, of course, no idea of the
events which had transpired. The
laboratory overhead was deserted,
save for the upper tower where a
Robot was still broadcasting defi-
ance. His electrical voice floated
faintly down to us; but I ignored
it. In the comparative silence of this
deserted cavern, now, there were also
the blurred sounds from overhead.
The Robots were running wild over
the city, massacring its human in-
habitants; they had burned the Pa-
trol Station; their red and violet
rays were flashing everywhere. But
I knew none of this.

THE EXILE OF TIME

113

Migul was saying:

“We cannot get to the palace
above ground : the wall is electrified.
But there is an underground tunnel.
Shall we try it?”

"Yes, if you think the Princess
Tina and that man Larry is there.”
“I am seeking Tugh. Will you
kill him if we find him?”

“Yes,” I assured him.

Hash promise I

M IGUL was leading me between
the rows of unattended ma-
chinery to the cavern’s opposite
side. It said, once:

"There have been too many recent
vibrations here: I cannot pick

Tugh’s trail. It is quicker to go
where he might have been recently;
there I will try to find his vibra-
tions.”

We came to the entrance of a tun-
nel. It was the cross passage lead-
ing to the cellar corridor* of the
palace five hundred feet away. It
seemed deserted, and was very dim-
ly illumined by hidden lights. I
followed the great metal figure of
Migul, which stalked with stiff-
legged steps in advanbe of me. The
arch of the tunnel-roof barely
cleared the top of Migul's square-
capped head.

My hand was in the side pocket
of my jacket, my fingers gripping
the ray cylinder for instant action.
But it was a singularly ineffectual
weapon for me under the circum-
stances, in spite of the sense of se-
curity it gave me. I could only use
the cylinder against a human — and,
save Tugh, it was the Robots, not
the humans who were my enemies!

We had gone no more than a hun-
dred feet or so when Migul slowed
our pace, and began to walk stooped
over, with one of its abnormally long
arms held close to the ground. The
fingers were stiffly outstretched and
barely skimmed the floor surface of
tHe tunnel. As we passed through
a spot of light I saw that Migul had

extended from each of the finger-
tips an inch-long filament of wire,
like finger nails.

The Robot murmured abruptly.
“Tugh’s vibrations are here. I can
feel them. He has passed this way
recently.”

T UGH’S trail! I knew then that
Tugh’s body, touching this
ground, had altered to some infini-
tesimal degree the floor-substance’s
inherent vibration characteristics.
Vibrations of every sort are com-
municable from one substance to an-
other. Tugh’s trail was here — his
vibration-scent — and like a hound
with his nose to the ground, Migul’s
i fingers with the extended filaments
were feeling it. What strange sen-
sitivity I What an amazing develop-
ment of science was manifested in
every move and act and word of this
Robot! Yet, in my own Time-world
of 1935, it was all crudely presaged:
this now before me was merely the
culmination.

“He recently passed,” said Migul.
We stopped, I close beside the stoop-
ing metal figure. The Robot’s voice
was a furtive sepulchral whisper
that filled me with awe.

“How long ago?” I asked.

“He passed here an hour or two
ago, perhaps. The vibrations are
fading out. But it was Tugh. Well
do I know him. Put your hand
down. Feel the vibrations?”

“I cannot. My fingers are not that
sensitive, Migul.”

A faint contempt was in the Ro-
bot’s tone. “I forgot that you are
a man.” Then it straightened, and
the extended- filaments slid back in-
to its fingers. It said softly, "There
is one guard in this passage.”

My heart leaped. “A human or a
Robot?”

“A man. His name is Alent. He
is at a gate that is too well fortified
for any Robot to assail, but he will
pass humans. It will be necessary
for you to kill him.”

114

ASTOUNDING STORIES

I HAD no intention of doing that,
but I did not say so. As we
crept forward to where I saw that
the tunnel made a bend, with the
fortified gate just beyond it, there
was . in my mind that now I would
do my best to separate from Migul,
using this guard as my pretext, for
he would doubtless pass me, but not
the Robot, The palace was occu-
pied, I assumed, by~\friendly hu-
mans. I could get them to locate
Tina and Larry. . . . Then the flaws
of this plan made themselves all too
evident. Larry might be with Tugh,
and without Migul I could not fol-
low Tugh’s trail. Worse than that,
if I tricked Migul, the angered Ro-
bot would at once return to Mary.
I shuddered at the thought. That
would not do. I must try to get
Migul past the guard.

I whispered, “When we reach the
gate you stay behind me. Let me
persuade the guard,"

“You will kill him? You have the
weapon. He is fortified against the
Robot weapons, but yours will be
strange to him.” >

“We will see.” /

We crept around the bend. A hun-
dred feet further on I saw that the
passage was barred by a grille, faint-
ly luminous with electrification.

I called cautiously:

“Alent! Alentl”

A glow of light illuminated me as
I stood in the middle-of the passage;
Migul was in a shadow behind me.

A man’s voice answered, “You are
a human? How come you there?
Who are you?”

“A stranger. A friend of the Prin-
cess Tina. I came in the Time-trav-
eling cage. I want to pass now into
the palace."

I COULD see the dark man’s fig-
ure behind the grille. His voice
called, "Come slowly forward and

stop at twenty feet. Walk only in
the middle of the passage: the sides
are electrified, but I will admit you
along the middle."

I took a step, but no more. The
figure of the guard stood now at the
grille doorway. I was conscious of
Migul towering over me from be-
hind. Abruptly I felt a huge hand
in my jacket pocket, and before I
could prevent it my cylinder came
out, clutched by the Robot.

I think I half turned. There was
a soundless flash beside me, a tiny
level beam leaped down the corri-
dor — that horribly intense actinic
white heam. It struck the guard, and
his figure fell forward in the grille
doorway. When we reached him,
there was but a crumpled heap of
black and white ^garments enveloping
a bleached white'skeleton.

I turned shudderingly away.
Migul said calmly. “Here is your
weapon. You should have used it
more quickly. I give it back to you
because against Tugh I am not sure
I would have the will to use it. Will
you be more quick with him?”

“Yes," I promised. And as we
went through the gate, keeping cau-
tiously in the middle of the passage,
the Robot added, “In dealing with
Tugh you cannot stop for talk. He
will kill you when he sees you."

We were presently under the pal-
ace, in those lower corridors which
I have already described. Human
voices were audible from npstairs,
but no one was down here. Migul
was again prowling with his fingers
along the ground. We came to an
unoccupied lighted room — Harl’s
room, though I did not know it then.
Once or twice Migul was at fault.
We started up a flight of stairs into'
the palace, then Migul came and
turned back.

“He went upstairs; but this, com-
ing down, is more recent,”*

•It wilt be recklled that Tugh passed AIcnt'a gate, and with Tina and Larry went to the palace roof.
Perhaps, while Larry was with the Council, during that time when the Robot revolt wae first a weeping
over the city, Tugh may again have prowled down here in these lower corridors. Then he went upstairs,
brought Tina and Larry down and they atarted for the Power House.

THE EXILE OF TIME

115

M IGUL had struck the main
trail, now. We passed the
lighted room again, went on to a
cave-like open space with a litter of
abandoned machinery and unswerv-
ingly to a blank space of the oppo-
site wall.

Again Migul faltered.

“What’s the matter, Migul?”

“His vibrations are faint. They
are blurred with the Princess
Tina’s.”

"Then she is with him?”

It was a tremendous relief. Larry
doubtless was with them also.

"Is the man from 1935 with Tugh
and the Princess?" I asked.

“I think so. There are unfamiliar
vibrations — perhaps those of the man
from the past."

The Robot was running the fila-
ments of its fingers lightly over the
wall.

“I have it. The Princess pressed
this switch.”

The door opened; the narrow de-
scending tunnel was wholly black.
“Where does this go, Migul?"

“I do not know.”

The Robot was stooping to the
floor. “It is a plain trail,” it. said.
“Come.”*

The remainder of that journey
through the labyrinth of passages
was made in blank darkness, with
only the faint lurid red beams from
Migul’s eye-sockets to light our way.
But we went swiftly, and without
incident. At last we went under
the dam, up the 6piral stairs and
upon the catwalk above the abyss,
where the great spillway of falling
water arched out over us.

“The Power House,” said Migul,
“is where they went.”

T HE Robot was obviously fright-
ened, now. We were wet with
spray. “I should not be here,” it
said. “If the water gets into me —

even though I am well insulated — I
will be destroyed!”

I recall as I write this how in
Patton Place of 1935, one of the first
attacking Robots had exploded under
a jet of water from the street hy-
drant.

“I will stay behind you,” Migul
added. “They have a deranging ray
in the. Power HQUse, and they might
use it on me. Will you protect me?”

“Yes, of course,” I said.

I was ready to promise anything,
if only I could get to Larry and
Tina, then back with them to Mary
into the Time-cage; and if we were
safejjy out of this era, most assured-
ly I wanted none of it again. Migul,
as I advanced along the catwalk,
followed behind me.

“You will kill Tugh?” it reiterated
like an anxious child.

“Yes.”

I saw that the catwalk terminated
ahead under the Power House, where
steps led upward. Then I heard a
cry:

“Help! Help! Here, inside the
dam I Help!"

I stood transfixed, with horror
tingling my flesh. The voice came
faintly from near at hand; it was
muffled, and in the roar of the fall-
ing water and lashing spray I barely
heard it.

Then it came again. “Help us!
Help us, quickly!”

It was an agonized, panting, hu-
man voice. And in a chance, partial
lull I heard it now pliinly.

It was Larry’s voice!

CHAPTER XXI

The Fight in the Philter House

1 FOUND the narrow aperture and
stood peering down into dark-
ness. Migul crowded behind me.
The red beams of its eyes went down
into the pit, and by their faint illu-

‘•Hid Migul it thit Juncture traced Tine's movement! — her hind where It went along the tunnel-will—
we would hive found the light iwitch. But it chinced that the Robot’s fingers went at once to. the ground
ud caught the foot-trill of Tugb.

116

ASTOUNDING STORIES

initiation I saw the heads of Larry
and a girl, swimming twenty feet
below. The girl's dark hair floated
out like black seaweed in the water.

“The Princess and the strange
man!" exclaimed Migul.

I called, "Larry! Larry!"

His. labored voice came up.
“George? Thank God! Get us —
out of here. Almost — gone, George!”
I found my wits\ “Then keep
quiet! , Don't talk./ Save your
strer.gtn. I'll get you out!"

But how? I could see that they
were almost spent, for . they were
swimming with labored, inefficient
strokes — Larry using most of his
strength to hold up the exhausted
girl. We had not a moment to spare.
I wildly contemplated tearing my
garments to make a rope.

But Migul pushed me away. "I
will bring them. Stand back.”

The Robot had opened its metal
side and drawn forth a flexible wire
with a foot-long hook fastened to
it. The wire came smoothly out as
though unrolling from a drum.

It leaned into the aperture and
called down to Larry. “Fasten this
around the Princess. Be careful not
to harm her. Put it under her arms.”
I saw that there was an eyelet
on the wire into which the hook
could be inserted to make a loop.

“Under, her arms,” Migul called.
“She will have to hold to the hook
with her hands or the wire will cut
into her. Has she the strength?”
Larry floundered as he adjusted
the wire. Tina gasped, “I — have the
strength.”

The Robot braced itself, spreading
its knees against the aperture with
its body leaning forward.

“Ready?” it called.

“Yes,” came Larry’s voice.

M IGUL’S finger pressed a but-
ton at the base of its neck, and
with the smooth power of machinery
the wire cable rolled into its side.
Tina came up; Migul gripped her

and pulled her through the aper-
ture; laid her gently on the catwalk.
I unfastened the hook, and soon
Migul had Larry up with us.

The Robot stood aside, with its
work done, silently regarding us. I
need not detail this reunion of Lar-
ry and me there on the spray-swept
catwalk, clinging to the side of the
great dam with the foaming Hudson
beneath us. Larry and Tina were
not injured, and presently their
strength partially returned. We
hastily sketched what had happened
to each of us.

It was Tugh who was the guiding
evil genius of all these disastersl
Tugh, the exile of Time, the ruthless
murderer in many eras ! He was here,
very probably, in the Power House,
a few hundred feet away.

And Tina, regarding that Power
House with her returning clarity of
senses saw that its sending signal
lights were off, which meant that
the. air-power of the New York Dis-
trict was not being supplied. Help
from other cities could not arrive.

Tina stood up waveringly. “We
cannot stay here like this I” she said.
“Tugh has killed the guards, and is
there in control. The electrical de-
fenses are shut off; they must be!
The Robots will soon be coming
along the top of the dam, for their
battery renewers are stored in the
Power House. If they get them,
this massacre will go on for days I —
and spread all over! We’ve got to
stop them! We must get in the
Power House and capture Tugh!”
“But we have no weapons I” Larry
cried. “And he must have that
white-ray, if he has killed the
guards!” t

“I have a weapon!” I said. I had
suddenly recalled the cylinder in
my pocket. “I have a white-ray!”

A DESPERATE madness was on
us all. The lives of thousands
of people who might still be alive
on Manhattan were at stake; and

THE EXILE OF TIME

117

other millions would be menaced if
these Robots renewed their energy
and spread the revolt into other
cities.

Over the roar, and the wind lash-
ing us, I shouted:

“I promised Migul I would kill
Tugh. I will I”

I turned toward Migul. But the
Robot had vanished! Afraid, no
doubt, that we would want it to go
with us after Tugh, the terrified
mechanism was hiding. We wasted
no time searching for it.

We had all been half hysterical
for those few moments, but we
steadied quickly enough as we ap-
proached the Power House’s lower
entrance. The building was a rec-
tangular structure some two hundred
feet long. It was fastened upon
great brackets to the perpendicular
side of the dam and jutted out some
fifty feet. It was two levels in
height — a total of about forty feet
to its flat roof, in the center of
which waB set a small oval tower.
The whole structure was above us
now; the catwalk went close under-
neath it, passing through an arch of
the huge supporting ’ brackets and
terminating in a small lower plat-
form, with an open spiral staircase
leading upward some ten feet into
the lower story.

The place seemed dark and desert-
ed as we crept up to it. Gazing
above me, I could see the top of the
dam, now looming above the Power
House. There was a break in the
spillway at this point. The arching
cascade of water under which the
catwalk hung ended here. We came
out where there was a vista of the
lower Hudson beneath us, showing
dimly down past the docklights and
skeleton landing stages to the bay.

T HE sky was visible - now, and
the open wind struck us full.
It was a crazy pendulum wind. A

*The cylinder of the white-ray which 1 carried
■tine «n portable, and considerably smaller.

storm was breaking overhead. There
were flares of lightning and thunder
cracks — from disturbed nature, out-
raged by the temperature changes of
the Robot’s red and violet rays.

The Power House, so far as we
could see, was dark and deserted.
Its normal lights were extinguished.
Was Tugh in there? It was my
weapon against his. The white-ray
was new to Tina; we had no way of
estimating this cylinder’s effective
range.*

I kept Tina and Larry well behind
me. It was a desperate approach,
and I was well aware of it. The
catwalk now was illumined at in-
tervals by the lightning; Tugh from
many points of vantage in the Pow-
er House could have seen us and
exterminated us with a soundless
flash swift as a lightning bolt itself.
But we had to chance it.

We reached the small lower plat-
form. The catwalk terminated. The
Power House was a roof over us. I
stood at the foot of the spiral stair-
case, which went up through a rec-
tangular opening in the floor. There
was a vista of a dark room-segment.

“Keep behind me,” I murmured,
and I started up. Was Tugh lurk-
ing here, waiting for me to raise my-
self above this opening? If he had
been, he could have have held his
I position against a score of assailants.

But he was not. I soon stood
breathlessly in a dark metal room.
Tina and Larry came up.

“He’s not here,” I whispered. It
was more silent in here: the cascad-
ing water was further away from
us now. There came a flash of light-
ning, followed in a few seconds by
its accompanying thunder crash.

I started. “What’s that?”

O N the floor near us lay a grue-
some, crumpled thifig. I bent
over it, waiting for another flash.
When one came I saw it was a heap

was not the one with which Tugh murdered Harl.

118

ASTOUNDING STORIES

of clothes, covering a white skele-
ton. By the garments Tina knew it
was one' of the guarjlse^

We crept into ajlmall interior cor-
ridor where a small light was burn-
ing. The remains of two other
guards lay here, close by the- 'door-
way as though theyithad come run-
ning at Tugh’s alarm, only to be
struck down. /

It was horribly gruesome, here in
the dimness with these bleached
bones which had been living men so
recently. And it was nerve-breaking
to know that Tugh was doubtless
here somewhere.

“Listen!” whispered Tina.

There was a crackling sound over-
head, and then the blurred murmur
of a voice. An audible broadcasting
transmitter was in operation.

"It’s in the tower,” said Tina swift-
ly. “Tugh must be there.”

This was an infinite relief. We
went to the top story, passing, un-
heeding, another crumpled heap.
Again we stood listening. The trans-
mitter was hissing and spluttering,
and then shouting its magnified hu-
man voice out into the night. It
was Tugh up there. He was calling
audibly to his Robots, with words
which would be relayed upon all the
local magnifiers in the city. Be-
tween the thunder cracks we heard
hint plainly now.

'“This is your Master Tugh in the
Power House. Robots, we are tri-
umphant! The city is isolated! Ho
help can get in! Kill all humans!
Spare none! This night sees the end
of human rule!"

Larry; “I’ll go up there. I’ll get
him now once and for all.”

I REACHED the Power House
roof. The storm tore at me. It
was beginning to rain. I was near
the outer edge of the roof, and ten
feet away stood the oval tower. I
saw windows twenty feet up, with
dim lights in them. Mingled with
the storm was the hiss of the trans-
mitter in the top of the tower, and
the roar of Tugh’s magnified voice.
He had evidently been there only a
brief time. From where I crouched
on the roof, I could see overhead,
along the top edge of the dam loom-
ing above me. The red Robot rays
were everywhere in the city, but
none as yet showed along the dam’s
upper roadway.

I got into the tower and mounted
its small stairs, j Creeping cautious-
ly to the entrance of the control
room, I saw a fairly large, dimly
lighted oval apartment. Great banks
of levers stood around it; tables of
control apparatus; rows of dials, il-
lumined by tiny lights like staring
eyes. There was another gruesome
heap of garments here on the floor;
a grinning white skull leered at me.

This was the main control room
of the Power House. Across it, near
an open window, Tugh sat with hit
back to me, bent over a table with
the grid of a microphone before him.
I raised my cylinder; then lowdred
it, for I had only a partial view of
him: a huge transformer stood like
a barrier between us.

And again: "When you want re- "I^TOISELESSLY I stepped over
newal, come along the top roadway li the threshold, and to one side
of the dam. The electric defenses within the room. The place was a
are off. You can come, and I have buzz and hiss of sound topped by
your renewers here. I have new bat- Tugh’s broadcast voice and the roar
teries, new strength for you Ro- of the storm outside — yet he was in-
bots!"* stantly aware of /me I His voice in

“You stay here,” I told Tina and the microphone / abruptly stopped;

_ /

•Tugh hid been to the Power House before. He knew the operation of itj various controls. But h*
had come always by the surface route: he had heard of the existence of tHe secret tunnel, but had nevo
before this night been able to find out where it was. *

THE EXILE OF TIME

119

be roee and with an incredibly swift
motion whirled and flung at me a
heavy metal weight which had been
lying on the table by his hand. The
missile struck my outstretched
weapon just as I was aiming it to
fire, and the cylinder, undischarged,
was knocked from my hand and went
spinning across the floor several feet
away from me.

Tugh, like an uncoiling spring,
still with one continuous motion,
made a leap sidewise to where his
own weapon was lying on a bench,
and I saw he would reach it before
1 could retrieve mine.

I flung my heavy battery box but
missed him. And as I rushed at him
he caught up his cylinder and fired
it full at me! But no flash came:
only a click. He had exhausted its
charge when he killed the Power
House guards. With a curse he
flung it at my face, and my arm took
its blow just as I struck him. We
fell gripping each other, and rolled
on the floor.

I was aware that Larry and Tina
had followed me up. Larry shouted,
“Look out for him, George I”

I have described Larry’s hand-to-
hand encounter with the cripple;
mine was much the same; I was a
child in his grip. But with his
weapon useless, and Larry rushing
into the room, Tugh must have felt
that for all his strength and fighting
skill he would be worsted in this
encounter. He blocked a jab of my
fist, flung me headlong away and
sprang to his feet just as Larry
leaped at him.

,1 stood erect, to see that he had
sent Larry crashing to the floor. I
heard his sardonic laugh as he hurled
a metal stool at Tina, who was try-
ing to throw something at him. Then,
turning, he sprang through the open
window casement and disappeared.

I T was twenty feet down to the
roof. We reached the window to
see Tugh picking himself up un-
hurt. Then, with his awkward gait
but at amazing speed, he ran across
the roof to a small entrance in the
face of the dam where an interior
staircase gave access to the roadway
on top.

He was escaping us. The electri-
cal gate v/as open to him. It was
only a few hundred feet along the
dam roadway to that gate; and be-
yond it the roadway was open into
the city, where now we could see
the distant flashing lights of the
Robots advancing along the dam.

Larry and I would have rushed
to the roof to follow Tugh, but Tina
checked us. She said:

“No— he has too great a start. He’s
on top by now, and it’s only a short
distance to the gate. There’s a bet-
ter way here: I can electrify the
gate again — trap him inside.”*

Tina found the gate controls. Bu.t
they would not operate!

Those precious lest seconds, with
Tugh running along the top of the
dam and his Robots advancing to
join him!

“Tina, hurry 1" I cried. Larry and
I bent anxiously over her, but the
levers meant nothing to us. There
were lost seconds while she desper-
ately fumbled, and (Larry pleaded :
“Tina, dear, what's the matter?”
“He must have ripped out a wire
to make sure of getting away. I —
I must find it. Everything seems
all right.”

' A minute gone. Surely Tugh
would have reached the gate by now L
Or, worse, the Robots would have
come through, and would assail us
here.

“Tina!” pleaded Larry, “don’t get
excited. Take it calmly: you can
find the trouble.”

•There was a similar gate and wall-barrier at the Jersey entrance to the dam, and both gates oper-
ated together. The nearby Jeraey section was, in 2030. an agricultural district save for a few landing
•tages lor the great airliners. The revolt had spread into Jersey, but since lew humans were there, with
only Robot agricnltnrista working the section, the unimportant Jersey events have not figured in my
nanptive.

120

ASTOUNDING STORIES

I RUSHED to the window. I
could see the upper half of the
cross wall gate-barrier. It jutted
above the top edge of the dam from
the point of vision. On the Man-
hattan side I saw the oncoming Ro-
bot lights. And then suddenly I
made out a light on this side of the
barrier; it marked Tugh; it must
have been a beam signal he was car-
rying. It moved slowly, retarded
by distance, but it was almost to
the gate; and then it reached there.

“He’s gone through!” I called.
Then I saw him on the land side.
He had escaped us and joined the
Robots. The lights showed them all
coming for the gate.

And then Tina Ibruptly found the
loosened wire. J
"I have it!” she exclaimed.

She stood up, tugging with all her
strength at the great switch-lever. I
saw, up there on the top of the dam,
a surge of sparks aa, the current
'hissed into the wall-barrier; saw the
barrier glow a moment and then sub-
side. And presently the lights of
the balked Robots, Tugh with them,
retreated back into the wrecked and
blood-stained city.

“Vie did it!” exclaimed Larry.
“We’re impregnable here. Tina,
now the air-power, for help may be
on its way. And then call some other
city. Can you do that? They must
have sent us help by now.”

I N a moment the air-power went
on, and the city lighting system.
Then Tina was at the great trans-
mitter. As she closed the circuits,
London was frantically calling us.
In the midst of the chaos of elec-
trical sounds which now filled the
control room, came the audible voice
of the London operator.

“I could not get you because your
circuit was broken,” it said. “Our
air-vessel Micrad, bearing the large
projector of the Robot-deranger,
landed on the ocean surface two hun-
dred miles from New York harbor.

If was forced down when your dis-
trict air-power failed.”

Tina said hurriedly, “Our air-
power is on now. Is the Micrad
coming?”

“Wait. Hold connection. I will
call them.” And after a moment’s
pause the London voice came again:
“The Micrad is aloft again, and
should be over New York in thirty
minutes. You are safe enough now.”
As the voice clicked off Tina’s
emotion suddenly overcame her.
“Safe enough! And our city red
with human blood!”

A wild thought abruptly swept
me. Mary Atwood was back there
in the cavern, alone, waiting for me
to return I Subconsciously, in the
rush of these tumultuous events, my
mind had always been on her; she
was secure enough, no doubt, locked
in that room. But now Tugh was
back in the city, and realizing that
his cause was lost he would return
to her!

I hastily told Larry and Tina.
"But he cannot open the door to
get into her,” said Larry.

But Migul could open the door.
Where was Migul now? It set met
shuddering.

W E decided i to rush back by
the underground route. The
Power House could remain unattend-
ed for a time. We got down into
the tunnel and made the trip with-
out incident. We ran to the limit
of Tina’s strength, and then for a
distance I carried her. We were all
three panting and exhausted when
we came to the corridors under the
palace. I think I have never had so
shuddering an experience as that
trip. I tried to convince myself that
nothing could have happened to
Mary, that all this haste was un-
necessary, but the wild thought per-
sisted: Where was Migul?

A group of officials stood in one
of the palace lovjer corridors. Ai
they came hastily [up to Tina, I,sud-

THE EXILE OF TIME

121

denly had a contempt for these men
who governed a city in which neither
they nor anyone else did any work.
In this time of bloodshed, all these
inmates of the palace had stayed
safely within its walls, knowing that
it was well fortified and that with*
in a few hours help would doubtless
Come.

“The Micrad is coming with the
long-range deranger,” Tina told
them briefly. After a moment they
hastened away upstairs and I heard
one of them shouting :

“The revolt is over! Within an
hour we will have all the accursed
Robots inert. The Micrad can sweep
all the city with her ray I”

The death of Alent, the guard in
the tunnel to the Robot cavern, had
been discovered by the palace offi-
cials, and another guard was there
now in his place. Migul had not
passed him, this guard told us. But
there had been an interim when the
gate was open. Had Migul returned
here and gone back to Mary?

We reached the cavern of machin-
ery. It was dim and deserted, as
before. We came to the door of
Mary’s room. It was standing half
open I

M ARY was gone! The couch
was overturned, with its cov-
ing and pillows strewn about. The
room showed every evidence of a
desperate struggle. On the floor the
great ten-foot length of Migul lay
prone on its back. A small door-
porte in its metal side was open;
the panel hung awry on hinges half
ripped away. From the aperture! a
coil and grid dangled half out in
the midst of a tangled skein of wires.

We bent over the Robot. It was
not quite inert. Within its metal
shell there was a humming and a
faint, broken rasping. The staring
eye-sockets showed wavering beams
of red; the grid of tiny wires back
of the parted lips vibrated with a
faint jangle.

I bent lower. “Migul, can you
hear me?” I asked.

Would it respond? My heart spnt
a fervent prayer that this mechanical
thing — the product of man’s inven-
tive genius through a thousand years
— would have a last grasp of energy
to answer my appeal.

“Migul, can you — ”

It spoke. “I hear you.” They
were thin, jangled tones, crackling
and hissing with interference.

“What happened, Migul? Where
is the girl?” I asked.

“Tugh— did this — to me. He took
the girl.”

“Where? Migul, where did he
take her? Do you know?”

“Yes. I — have it recorded that he
said — they were going to the Time-
cage — overhead in the laboratory. He
said — they — he and the girl were
leaving forever!”

CHAPTER XXII

The Chase to the End of the World

T HE giant mechanism, fashioned
in the guise of a man, lay dy-
ing. Yet not that, for it never had
had life. It lay deranged; out of
order; its intricate cycle was still
operating, but faintly, laboriously.
Jangling out of tune.

Every moment its internal energy
was lessening. It seemed to want
to talk. The beams of its eyes rojled
wildly. It said:

“Tugh— did this — to me. I came
back here frightened because I knew
that Tugh still controlled me. You
— hear me.

There was a muffled, rumbling
blur, then its voice clicked on again.

“When Tugh came I opened the
door to him, even though the girl
tried to stop me. And I was

humble before Tugh. But he

was angry because I had released
you. He— deranged me. I tried to
fight him, and he ripped open my
side porte. ...”

I thought the mechanism had gone

122

ASTOUNDING STORIES

i inert. From within it was complete
silence. Larry murmured, "Good
Lord, this is gruesome!”

Then the faint, rasping voice start-
ed again.

"Deranged me. . And about

Tugh, he — ” A blur. Then again,
j “Tugh — he is — Tugh, he is — ”

It went into a dull repetition of
the three words, ending in a rumble
which died into complete silence.
The red radiance from the eye-sock-
ets faded and vanished.

The thing we had called Migul
seemed gone. There was only this
metal shell, cast to'represent a giant
human figure, lying here with its
I operating mechanisms out of order —
smashed.

I STOOD up. "That’s the end of
it. Mary Atwood’s^gone — ”
“With Tugh in the Time-cage I”
Larry exclaimed. "Tina, can’t we — ”
"Follow them?” Tina interrupted.
“Come on ! No— you two wait here.
I 1 will go upstairs and verify if the
; Time-cage is gone.”

She came back in a moment. The
! laboratory overhead Was fortunately
| deserted of Robots: Larry and I had
1 not thought of that.

“The cage is gone!” Tina ex-
claimed. “Migul told us the truth!”
We hastened back through the tun-
nel, past the guard, up into the pal-
ace and into the garden. My heart
pounded in my throat for fear that
Tina’s Time-cage would have van-
ished. But it stood, dimly glowing
! under the foliage where she had left
it.

A young man rushed up to us and
raid, “Princess Tina, look there!”
A great row of colored lights
; sailed slowly past overhead. The
i Micrad was here, circling over the
city. The storm had abated; it had
; rained only for a brief time.* The
| crazy winds were subsiding. The
Micrad was using its deranging ray:

we could hear the thrum of it. It
sent out vibrations which threw the
internal mechanisms of the Robots
out of adjustment, and they were
dropping in their tracks all over the
city.

I T chanced, as momentarily we
stood there at the entrance to the
Time-cage while the great airliner
swept by, that the top of the nearby
laboratory was visible through the
trees. We saw a white searchbeam
from the Micrad come down and dis-
closed a group of Robots on the
laboratory roof. Then the spreading
beam of the deranging ray struck
them, and they stood an instant
transfixed, stricken, with wildly
flailing arms. Then one toppled and
fell.. Then another. Two rushed
together, locked in each other’s grip,
desperately fightihg because of some
crazy, deranged thought-impulse.
They swayed and tore at each other
until both wilted and sank inert
Another tottered with jerky steps
to the edge of the roof and plunged
headlong, crashing with a great metal
clatter to the stone paving of the
ground.

The young man who had joined us
dashed into the palace. We heard his
shouts :

“The revolt is over I The revolt is
over!”

This had been a. massacre similar
to Tugh’s vengeance upon the New
York City of 1935; just as senseless.
Both, from the beginning, were
equally hopeless of ultimate success.
Tugh could not conquer this Time-
world, so now he had left it, taking
Mary Atwood with him. . .

We hastened into the Time-cage
Larry and I braced ourselves for the
shock as Tina slid the door closed
and hurried to the controls.

Within a moment we were flash-
ing off into the great streaiq of
Time.

| . *It mi afterward found that many of die Robots, headless of the rain as they ran about the dty
mtent upon their murderous work, had exploded by setting too wet

THE EXILE OF TIME

123

“T70U think he has gone for-

X ward into the future?" Lar-
ry asked. “Won’t the instrument
show anything, Tina?”

“No.. No trace of him yet.”

We were passing 3,000 A.D., trav-
eling into the future. Tina reasoned
that Tugh, according to Harl’s con-
fession, had originally come from a
future Time-world. It seemed most
probable that , now he would return
there.

The Time-telespectroscope so far
had shown us no evidence of the
other cage. Tina kept the telescope
barrel trained constantly on that
other space five hundred feet from
us which held Tugh’s vehicle. The
Rowing gray landscape off there gave
no sign of our quarry ; yet we knew
we could not pass it, without at
(east a brief flash of it in the tele-
spectroscope and upon the image-
mirrOr. Nervously, breathlessly we
waited for a sign of the other Time-
cage.

But nothing showed. We were
not traveling fast. With Larry and
Tina at the instrument table, I was
left to stand at the window. Always
I gazed eastward. That other little
point of space only five hundred feet
to the east held Mary ; she was there ;
but not now. She was remote, in-
accessible. The thought of her with
Tugh, bo inaccessible, set me shud-
dering.

I was barely aware of the chang-
ing gray outlines of the city: I

stared, praying for the fleeting
glimpse of a spectral dage. . I
think that up to 3,000 A.D., New
York remained much the same. And
then, quite suddenly, in some vast
storm or cataclysm, it was gone. I
saw but a blurred chaos. This was
near 4,000 A.D. Then it was rebuilt,
smaller, with more trees growing
about, until presently there seemed
only a forest. People, if they still
i were here, were building such tran-
sitory structures that I could not
tee them.

5 ,000 A.D. Mankind no doubt had
reached its peak of civilization,
paused at the summit and now was
in decadence, reverting to savagery.
Perhaps in Europe the civilized peak
lasted longer. This was a backward
space during the ascent ; perhaps
now it was reverting faster to the
primitive.

But I think that by 15,000 A.D.,
mankind over all the Earth had be-
come primitive. There is no stand-
ing still: we must go forward, or
back. Man, with his own machines
softening him, enabling him to do
nothing, eventually unfitted himself
to cope with nature. That storm at
4,000 A.D. in New York, for instance,
even in my own Time would have
been merely an incentive to recon-
struct upon a greater scale. But
the men of 4,000 A.D. could not do
that. . .

At the year 10,000 A.D., with a
seemingly primeval forest around
us, Tina, Larry and I held an anxious
consultation. We had anticipated
that Tugh would stop in his own
Time-world. That might have been
around 3,000, or 4,000 ; but we hardly
thought, as we viewed the scene in
passing, that he had come originally
from beyond 4,000. He was too civi-
lized.

Tugh had not stopped. He had to
be still ahead of us, so our course
was to follow. Whenever he stopped,
we would see him. If he turned
back and flashed past us, that too
would be evident. But if, from
2,930, he had gone into the past— 1

A ND then suddenly we glimpsed
the other cage I It was ahead
of us, traveling more slowly and re-
tarding as though about to stop. A
gray unbroken forest was here. The
time was about 12,000 A.D. Tina
saw it first through the little tele-
scopic-barrel ; then it showed on the'
mirror-grid — a faint, gbostly-barged
shape, thin as gossamer. We even
saw it presently through the window.

124

ASTOUNDING STORIES

It held its steady position, level with
us, hanging solid amid the melting,
changing gray outlines of the forest
trees. They blurred it as they rose
and fell.

This chase through Timet The two
cages sped forward with the gray
panorama whirling around them. Of
all the scene, only that other cage,
to us, was real. Yet it was the cages
which were apparitions.

We gathered at our eastward win-
dow to gaze across the void of that
five hundred feet. The interior of
Tugh’s cage was not visible to us.
A little window — a thinner patch in
the lattices of the cage-side — front-
ed us; but nothing showed in it.

We were so helpless I Only five
hundred feet away, the Tugh cage
was there — now; yet we could do
nothing save hold our Time-chang-
ing rate to conform with it. Of
coarse Tugh saw us. He was making
no effort to elude us, for neither
cage was running at its maximum.

For hours I stood gazing, praying
that Mary might be safe, striving
with futile 'fancy to guess what
might be transpiring within that
cage speeding side by side with us
in the blurred shadows of the corri-
dors of Time.

And again, as so many times be-
fore, I was balked at guessing
Tugh's motives for his actions. He
knew we could not assail him unless
he stopped. But to what destination
was he going?

I T was a chase — to our conscious-
ness of the passing of Time —
which lasted several hours. Tugh
altered his Time-rate and sped more
swiftly. My heart sank, for this
showed he was not preparing to stop.
We lost direct sight of the other
cage several times as it drew ahead
of us. But it was always visible
on the image-mirror.

“I think,” Tina said finally, "that
we should stay behind it. When he
retards to stop, we will have a bet-

ter opportunity of landing simul-
taneously with him."

We passed 100,000 A.D. The for-
est went down, and it seemed that
only rocks were here. A barren
vista was visible off to the river and
the distant sea. The familiar con-
formations of the sea and the land
were changed. There was a differ-
ent shore-line. It was nearer at hand
now; and it was creeping closer.

I stared at that blurred gray sur-
face of water; at the wide, undulat-
ing stretch of rock. We came to
1,000,000 A.D. — a million years into
my future. Ice came briefly, and
vanished again. But there were no
trees springing into life on this bar-
ren landscape. I could not fancy
that even the transitory habitations
of humans were here in this cold
desolation.

Were we headed for the End? T
could envisage a dying world, its
internal fires cooling.

Ten million years. Then a

hundred million. . The gray

scene, blended of dark nights and
sunshine days, began changing its
monochrome. There were fleeting
alternating intervals, now, when it
was darker, and then lighter with
a tinge of red. The Earth’s rota-
tion was slowing down. Through
thousands of centuries the change
had been proceeding, but only now
could I see the lengthening days
and nights. Perhaps now the day
was a month long, and the night the
same.

A BILLION years! 1,000,000,000
A.D.t By now the day and the
year were of equal length. And it
chanced that this Western Hemi-
sphere faced the sun. I could see
the sun now, motionless above the
horizon. The scene was dull red.
The sun painted the rocks and the
sullen sea with blood. . .

A shout from Larry whirled me
round. “George! Good God I”

He was bending over the image-

THE EXILE OF TIME

125

mirror; Tina, ghastly pale, with ut-
ter horror stamped upon her face,
sprang for the controls. On the mir-
ror I caught a fleeting glimpse of
Tugh’s cage, wrecked and broken —
and instantly gone.

“It stopped 1” Larry shouted.
“Good God, it stopped all at once!
It was wrecked! Smashed!”

We reeled ; I all but lost conscious-
ness with the shock of our own
abrupt retarding. Our cage stopped
and turned back. Tina located the
wreckage and stopped again.

We slid the door open. The outer
air was deadly cold. The sun was
a huge dull-red ball hanging in the
haze of a grey sky. The rocks were
grey-black, with the blood-light of
the sun upon them.

Five hundred feet from us, by the
shore of an oily, sullen sea, the
wreckage of Tugh’s cage was piled
in a heap. Near it, the crumpled
white figure of Mary lay on the
rocks. And beside her, still with
his black cloak around him, crouched
Tught

CHAPTER XXIII
Diabolical Exile of Time!

T UGH saw us as we stood in our
cage doorway. His thick bar-
rel-like figure rose erect, and from
his parted cloak his arms waved with
a wild gesture of defiance and tri-
umph. He was clearly outlined in
the red sunlight against the surface
of the sea behind. We saw in one
of his hands a ray cylinder — and
then his arm came down and he fired
at us. It was the white, disintegrat-
ing ray.

We were stricken by surprise, and
itood for that moment transfixed in
our doorway. Tugh's narrow, in-
tensely white beam leaped over the
Intervening rocks; but it fell short
of us. I Baw that it had a range of
about a hundred feet. Over the
'muffled heavy silence of the blood-
red day the cripple’s curse floated

clear. He lowered his weapon; and,
heedless that we also might be armed,
he leaped nimbly past Mary's pros-
trate form and came shambling over
the rocks directly for me!

It stung me into action, and for
all the chaotic rush of these des-
perate moments my heart surged
with relief. Mary was not dead!
Beyond Tugh’s oncoming figure, as
he shambled like an infuriated charg-
ing bear over the rough rocky
ground, I saw the white form of
Mary move! She was striving to
sit up!

I held my ray cylinder — the one
I had rescued from Migul. But its
range was no more than twenty feet ;
I had tested it; and Tugh's beam
had flashed a full hundred! I
whirled on Larry.

“Get away from here, you and
Tina! You can’t help me!"

"George, listen — ”

“He’s coming, Larry — you damn
fool, get away from here! It goes
a hundred feet, that ray of his : it’ll
be raking us in a minute! Run, I
tell you! Get to that line of rocks!”

C LOSE behind our cage was a
small broken ridge of rocks —
strewn boulders in a tumbled line
some ten or fifteen feet in height.
It would afford shelter: there were
broken places to give passage
through it. The ridge curved cres-
cent-shaped behind our cage and ran
down toward the shore.

Larry and Tina stood white and
confused. Larry panted, “But,
George, I can help you fight him!
HidvJtEre in the cage — ”

“Get away, I tell you! It's his
death or mine this time! I’ll get
him if I can!”

I shoved Larry violently away and
ducked back into our doorway. Only
a few breathless seconds had passed;
Tugh was still several hundred feet
away from us. Larry and Tina ran
behind the cage, darted between the
boulders of the ridge and vanished.

126

/ASTOUNDING STORIES

I crouched in the cage. Tugh was
not visible from here. A moment
passed. Dared I remain? If I could
£et Tugh within twenty feet of me,
my shot was as good as his.

The silence was horrible. Was he
coming forward? Did he know I
was in here? I thought surely he
must have seen Larry and Tina run
away, and me darfNin here: we had
all been in plain sigjht of him.

This horrible silence ! Was he
creeping up on me? Would he fire
through the doorway, or appear
abruptly at the window? I could not
tell where to place myself in the
room — and it could mean my life
or death.

The silence was split by Tina call-
ing, “Tugh, we have caught you!”

H ER voice was to one side and
behind our cage, calling de-
fiance at Tugh to distract his atten-
tion from me. Through the window
I saw the flash of his beam, slanting
sidewise at Tina. I gauged the
source of his ray to be still some
distance off, and crept to the door,
cautiously peering.

Tugh stood on the open rock sur-
face. He had swung to my right
and was near the little ridge of
rocks where it turned and bent down
to the shore. Behind me came Tina’s
voice again:

“At last we have you, Tugh I”

I saw Tina poised on the top of
the ridge, partially behind me at
the elbow of the ridge-curve. She
screamed her defiance, and again
Tugh fired at her. The beam slant-
ed over me, but still was short.

Larry had vanished. Then I saw
him, though Tugh did not. He had
run along behind the ridge, and ap-
peared, now, well down toward the
shore. He was barely a hundred
feet from the cripple. I saw him
ftoop, seize a chunk of rock, and
throw it. The missile bounded and
passed close to Tugh.

Larry instantly ducked back out

of sight. The bounding stone
startled Tugh; he whirled toward it
and fired over the ridge. Tina again
had changed her position and was
shouting at him. They were trying
to exhaust his cylinder charges; and
if they could do that he would be
helpless before me.

F OR a moment he stood as though
confused. As he turned to gaze
after Tina, Larry flung another rock.
But this time Tugh did not fire. He
started back toward where, by the
wreckage of his cage, Mary was now
sitting up in a daze; then he changed
his mind, whirled' and fired directly
at my doorway. I was just beyond
the effective range of his beam, but
it was truly aimed: I felt the hor-
rible nauseous impact of it, a shud-
dering, indescribable sickening of all
my being. I staggered back into the
room and recovered my strength. A
side window porte was open; I
leaped through it and landed upon
the rocks, with the cage between
Tugh and me.

He fired again at the doorway.
Tina had disappeared. Larry was
now out of range, standing on the
ridge, shouting and hurling rock*.

But Tugh did not heed him. He
was shambling for my doorway. He
would pass within twenty feet of me
as I crouched outside the cage at its
opposite corner. I could take him by
surprise.

And then he saw me. He was lest
than a hundred feet away. He
changed his direction and fired again,
full at me. But I had had enough
warning, and, as the beam struck the
cage corner, I ran back along the
outer wall of the cage and appeared
at the other corner. Tugh came still
closer, his weapon pointed downward
as he ran. Fifty feet away. Not
close enough!

I think, there at the last, that
Tugh was wholly confused. Larry
had come much closer. He was
shouting; and from the ridge behind

THE EXILE OF TIME

127

nM Tina was Bhouting. Tugh ran,
not for where I was lurking now,
but for the corner where a moment
before he had seen me.

Now he was thirty feet from me.

. . . Twenty. . . . Then nearer than
that. Wholly without caution he
came forward. ... I leaned around
the edge of the cage and fired. For
one breathless instant the voices of
Tina and Larry abruptly hushed.

My beam struck Tugh in the chest.
It caught him and clung to him,
bathing him in its spreading, intense
white glare. He stopped in his
tracks; stood transfixed for one
breathless, horrible instant I He was
so close that I could see the stupid
surprise on his hideous features. His
wide slit of mouth gaped with aston-
ishment.

M Y beam clung to him, but he
did not fall! He stood as-
tonished; then turned and came at
mel For just a moment I was
stricken helpless there before him.
What manner of man was this? He
did not fall! My ray, which had
decomposed the body of Alent, the
guard, and left his skeleton stripped
and bleached in an instant, did not
harm Tugh I He had walked into it,
taken it full and he did not fall I He
an still alive I

I came to my senses and saw that
Larry, seeing my danger, had run
into the open, dangerously close, and
hurled a rock. It struck Tugh upon
the shoulder and deflected his aim,
so that his flash went over me. I
saw Tugh whirl toward Larry, and
I rushed forward, ripping loose the
cylinder of the ray projector from
Its restraining battery cord. In the
instant the cripple was turned half
way from me. I landed upon him,
and with all my strength brought
the point of the small heavy cylinder
down on his skull. There was a
stranga splintering crack, and a wild,
eery scream from his voice. He fell,
with me on top of him.

Crowning horror! Tugh lay mo-
tionless, twisted half on his back, his
thick arms outstretched on the rocks
and his weapon still clutched in his
hand. Culminating, gruesome horror!

I rose from his body and stood shud-
dering. Amazing realization! The
bulging misshapen head was splint-
ered open. And from it, strewn over
the rocks, were tiny intricate cogs
and wheels, coils and broken wires!

He was not a man, but a Robot ! A
Super-Robot from some unknown
era, running amuck! A mechanism
so cleverly fashioned by the genius
of man that it stood diabolically
upon the threshhold of humanity!

A super-mechanical exile of Time!
But its wild, irrational career of de-
struction through the ages now was
over. It lay inert, smashed and
broken at my feet. . . .

CHAPTER XXIV
The Return

1 THINK that there is little I
should add. Tugh's last purpose
had been to hurl himself and Mary
past the lifetime of our world,
wrecking the cage and flinging them
into Eternity together. And Tugh
was luring our cage and us to the
same fate. But Mary, to save us, had
watched her opportunity, seized the
main control lever and demolished
the vehicle by its instantaneous
stopping.

We left the shell of Tugh lying
there in the red sunlight of the
empty, dying world, and returned
to Tina’s palace. We found that
the revolt was over. The city, with
help arrived^ was striving to emerge
from the bloody chaos. Larry and
Tina decided to remain permanently*
in her Time. They would take us
back; but the cage was too diabolical
to keep in existence, y
"I shall send it^fofward unoccu-
pied,” said Tina; "flash it into Eter-
nity, where Tugh tried to go.”
Accompanied by Larry, she car-

128

ASTOUNDING STORIES

ried Mary and me to 1935. With
Mary’s father, her only relative, dead,
she yielded to my urging. We
arrived in October,- 1935. My New
York, like Tina’s a victim of the
exile of Time, was rapidly being
reconstructed.

I T was night when we stopped and
the familiar outlines of Patton
Place were around us.

We stood at thejcage doorway.
‘‘Good-by,’’ I said to Larry and
Tina. "Good luck to you both I”
The girls kissed each other. Such
strangely contrasting types! Over
a thousand years wasjietween them,
yet how alike they were, fundament-
ally. Both — just girls.

Larry gripped my hand. In times
of emotion one is sometimes inartic-
ulate. "Good-by, George,” he said.
“We — we’ve said already all there is
to say, haven’t we?”

There were tears in both the girls’
eyes. We four had been so dose;
we had been through so much to-
gether; and now we were parting
forever. All four of us were stricken
with surprise at how it affected ua
We stood gazing at one another.

“No !” I burst out. “I haven’t sail
all there is to say. Don’t you destroy
that cage I You come back! Guard
it as carefully as you can, and come
back. Land here, next year in Oc-
tober ; say, night of the 15th. Will
you? We’ll be here waiting.”
“Yes,” Tina abruptly agreed.

We stood watching them as they
slid the door closed. The cage for
a moment Btood quiescent. Then it
began faintly humming. It glowed;
faded to a spectre; and was gone.

Mary and I turned away into the
New York City of 1935, to begin osr
life together.

(The End)

TO THE MOON

'I^HE prediction that man will fly to the
A moon within the neat 100 years was
made* by John Q. Stewart, associate pro-
fessor of astronomical physics at Prince-
ton University, in a recent address at the
Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences.

The firBt obstacle to be overcome is
that of developing a speed of 25,000 miles
an hour, the professor said, which means
production of fuels more powerful than
coal, gasoline, dynamite or any other
source of energy now available. Such re-
markable progress has been made in the
speed of passenger carrying vehicles in
the last century that scientists believe that
a speed of 1,000 miles per hour will be
reached in 1950 and 50,000 an hour will be
surpassed before the year 2030, a century
from now.

The one theoretically feasible method
of making the journey to the moon, Stew-
art believes, is a vehicle propelled on the
rinciple of the rocket. He visions a ship
uilt in the form of a large metal sphere —
110 feet in diameter, weighing 70,000 met-
ric tons and carrying a crew of sixty and
a dozen scientists. A dozen or more can-
non would protrude slightly from the sur-
face, shooting material at the rate of 200
miles a second.

A half hour or so before noon and
about three days before a new moon,
Stewart would head his ship toward the
sun, expecting U to rise twelve miles In
the first six minutes and to soar out of

the earth’s atmosphere at 200 miles per
hour.

Two hours and 29 minutes after the
take-off the firing from the lower cannos
would be stopped with the ship going up-
ward, the professor estimates, at 190 milei
per minute and having reached a height
of 13,200 miles. Seventy hours later, cron-
ing the moon’i orbit, Stewart would fire
the forward cannon and the ship would
coast around the moon, becoming the ten-
porary satellite of a satellite.

“The rest would be easy," said Stewart,
“owing to the lesser gravity of the moon.
The cannon would be fired to cushion tbi
fall to the moon as the ship was gradoally
Bucked toward the satellite.

“The moon is airless, waterless and life*
less, days and nights are two weeks long
temperatures range from that of boiling
water at noon down perhaps to that ol
liquid air at midnight. The men of the
ship would walk on the moon clad in die*
ing sijits. Gravity being only one-sizlh
that of the earth, a man would carry «cr*
eral hundred pounds of apparatus for pro-
viding air and for regulating the temper*
ture.

“To leave the moon the ship would fin
her rear cannon and coast ba<;k to earth
By firing its forward cannon it would
cushion its landing on the earth, which
would have to be made on a desert be-
cause of the tremendous charges the on
non would fire.”

The Author Explains tells us that the planet was about as hot

as the tropics. Such heat should explode
Dear Editor: the bullets, but it didn’t. Why?

Am very much puzzled by the several Mr. Ernst has his heroes do a lot of
apparent mistakes in two of the stories in running around on that little planet, (c)
the April issue of Astounding Stories. In Since the planet is smaller than the moon.
"The World Behind the Moon," Mr. Ernst it hasn’t much gravity and therefore can’t
makes an error so obvious that it almost retain a very heavy atmosphere, or one
makes me believe that it isn’t an error. very thick. Anyone doing all that violent
Like doing a math problem and finding it exercise would probably die of exhaustion
so easy that you’re sure that you have it before many minutes of it.
wrong. Anyway, here is my problem: this "Four Miles Within" was a good story,
is taken verbatim from the story: "At two but I am unable to understand why they
thousand miles from the Earth there had did not find a lot of stagnant air. Air that

still been enough hydrogen traces in the
ether to give purchase to the explosions of
their water-motor.” Docs the author mean
to say that the explosions of the tubes
have to have something to push againBt
to have any action? (a) Has it not been
proven actually and mathematically that
the explosions of rockets and expanding
gases are even more powerful in space?
The space ship in this story was equipped
with both bow and stem tubes; why not
fire them to slow the Bhip down instead of
waiting to run into some resistance?

(b) Also, when they landed they took
some air-guns which shot bullets contain-
ing a liquid which exploded when heated
by the passage of the shell through the
barrel; then the author goes ahead and

had lain stagnant for the time that cavern
must have been closed would have killed
the person who breathed it. Also, I would
imagine that it wouldn’t be safe to handle
a chunk of radium like the characters in
the story did; it’s liable to burn. How-
ever, it probably wasn’t pure radium, just
pitchblend-beanng rocks.

The rest of the stories were fine. I es-
pecially like the stories of the Special Pa-
trol Service which S. P. Wright has
created. Let’s have some more stories of
Commander John Hanson and his crew.

"The Exile of Time’’ has started off
quite well and I look forward to the next
installments. Cummings is always good
for a batch of thrills and some swell ad-
venture, to say riothing of the enjoyable

129

ASTOUNDING STORIES

way he Introduce* science Into the story.

Wish you would publish this, as I would
like to get in touch with some other
Science 'Fiction fans.

By the way, some of the readers seem to
want the mag changed, but don't you do a
thing to it. All the suggestions, if fol-
lowed, would make "ou r' mag like the
other B,-F. mags on the market, and 1 read
Astounding Stories because it is DIF-
FERENT, and I mean every one of those
capitals 1— Ben Smith, Boa 444, Billings,
Mont. >

Mr. Ernst's Answers;

(a) No, it has not been actually proved
It baa been Indicated mathematically (by
formulae based on conjecture), but never
actually solved— for the very good reason
that it is impossible to reproduce Bpaclal
conditions in earthly laboratories. Know
how an explosive force-^jrould react in
space? We don't even know positively
what space is, let alone how our chemicals
and instruments would behave in it.

The majority theory is that explosive
charges would propel -a rocket or space
ship more effectively in the (theoretical)
emptiness of space, than In our atmos-
phere. But to my mind it U quite possible
that an explosion — a violent expansion of
gases causing rapid Increase of pressures
— would be ineffectual where there are no
pressures to be increased. Might not the
violently expanding gases fly forth from
an exhaust vent to expand instantly, fric-
tionlcssly and impotently to the ends of
the universe? In my story, 4, The World
Behind the Moon," I assumed that would
occur. And no man living is in a position
positively to disprove it.

And, as a corollary, if a propulsion ex-
plosion cannot have effect in empty space,
as presumed in the story, the space ship
must enter atmosphere before it can stop
by firing its bow tubes. Otherwise, with
the bow tubes shooting their expanding
gases futilely into nothingness, you could
go into “reverse" till the cows came home
and the ship would hurtle forward just
the same.

(b) Friction of a bullet through a rifle
barrel produces a temperature consider-
ably higher than "tropical."

(c) Again, no one knows spacial or plan-
etary conditions. It seems reasonable to
assume that a planet’s mass may have a
fairly direct bearing on the density of its
atmosphere. However, Venus, a smaller

8 lobe than Earth, is supposed to have a
enser atmosphere. For all we know to
the contrary, meteors no larger than peb-
bles may cariy about with them micro-
scopic films of "atmospheres" of varying
densities^-Psul Ernst.

Hitting Our Stride

Dear Editor:

The more I read Astounding Stories, the
more I like it. You’re just getting your
stride this, the second year. But why not

foresee the demand of your Readers tad
have a few stories by wL F, Burst? Yea
have other top-notchers euch ae Ray Cum-
mings, Murray Leinster; and Tom Curry
is another good writer. "Monsters of
Mare" would have been better If it were
boiled down to about two thirds ss many
pages. It reads “stretched."— W. P.
O’Toole, Parker, B. Dak.

“This Missile”

Dear Editor:

Congratulations! Your magazine— ex-
cuse me, “our" magazine— 4s going over

big I

However, there are a few things I would
like to suggest. First, why not Ukc a vote
on the quarterly idea? Second, give us
more stories and illustrations. Increase
the price if you have to, but keep up the

? :ood work and I’m your steady buyer. So
ar I have not mined a copy, and my only
regret is that I didn’t have sense enough
to keep the first six or seven instead of
throwing them away.

By the way, didn't I notice a rather
heated argument going on in “The Read-
era’ Comer" about reprints? And what is
the matter with reprints? Nothing, except
that they are reprints. That is hardly an
argument, but if you value my monthly
twenty cents please give us at least one
reprint to a volume, which I sec comprises
three copies of your— pardon, “our" mag-
azine. It the rest of the Readers acquiesce
I think we ought to have a reprint in the
near future. It they object, well, the world
will roll on.

Your time is precious, and besides there
are more Readers waiting to say the same
things I have just said, so I will close this
missile — er, missive. — Eugene Benefiel,
The Pioneer, Tucson, Arizona.

From the Antipodes

Dear Editor:

As a regular Reader of your magazine,
Astounding Stories, I thought I would
write and tell you how I appreciate the
stories contained in it. I am a heavy
Reader and have always had a soft snot
for stories unusual and bizarre. Until I
happened to see your magazine at a book-
shop in Perth, I had to be content with
occasional Science Fiction stories br
Wells, Burroughs, end a few others which
I picked up in my browsing in varloni
bookshops and libraries. Now that J get
Astounding Stories regularly, I have a
monthly feaat of good things that I read
and reread until the next issue arrives.

You ask us Readers to criticize the mag-
azine. Well, I have no complaint! worth
mentioning, except that some of the illus-
trations do not tally sufficiently with the
text of the story. Some of the stories, in
my opinion, are weak and not vtorth read-
ing. But, as tastes differ, I take everything
as it is, and say you have a first-class pub-
lication.

THE READERS’ CORNER

131

Will you thank your Authors for me for
the very many hours of interesting read-
ing they have given me during the past
twelve months? Later I intend to get my
Astounding Stories bound in cloth covers,
each twelve months' issue in a volume.

If any Reader sees this letter— of
course, should you think it worth while to
publish it— and can spare the time to write
to me here in Australia, I would be very
grateful. Perhaps we couldexchange snap-
shots of various places of interest. Every
part of America interests me, so a Reader
need not back out because he thinks his
district would not be interesting enough.

Here's hoping Astounding Stories grows
and prospers as the years go by, bo as to
give more entertainment to me and my
fellow-readers. A rather selfish wish, you
may think, but you will forgive me when I
say that I look forward with great plea-
sure to each month's issue. — Claude J.
Nanley, 65 Forrest St., Mt. Lawley, Wes-
tern Australia.

Note to Ray Cummings

Dear Editor:

I have just started Ray Cummings' lat-
est story in the April issue. Although I
wish Cummings would lay off this type of
story, I am willing to read anything by
him. Jack Williamson's “The Lake of
Light’ r ranked second in this issue. He is
another Merritt. “The Ghost World,” by
S. P. Wright, came third. Edmond Hamil-
ton was better than he has been of late.

If anyone wants to read “Through the
Dragon Glass,” “The Girl in the Golden
Atom,” etc., and wrkes to me, I will tell
him where they can be obtained. {This ia
not an attempt at free advertising.) I
know several places where it is possible to
secure works of this kind and will be glad
to assist anyone who doesn't.

Cummings brought me to your mag. He
Is keeping me there. So hold on to him.
But, please tell him to forget all about
time and probe the mysteries of the in-
finitely large and small, of interplanetary
■pace, of future civilisation and future
warfare. — Dale Mullen, 611 West Fifth,
Topeka, Kansas.

was only radium ore in the story.— Ed.]
Imagine being four miles inside of the
earth exposed to radium “ore”l

And chased and pursued by a gigantic
amoeba! Oh, oh! That roust have been
my pet mother-of-vinegar that escaped.
She was hard to herd. She took after my
dad's pet fish which fell through a crack
in a bridge and wa6 drowned.

In passing, it is interesting to note that
persons can vanish “into” a plane surface;
say, “into” a fifth dimension. My instruc-
tor in trig, must have been all wet.

And Dr. Bird catches a man withdraw-
ing “menthium” from human brains with
a “needle,” without the use of either
x-ray or a trephine!

And then low forms of life such as crabs
and alligators with very highly developed
scientific knowledge! A few issues ago
octopi were in the lead!

And those “space” ships! Mars must be
an interesting spot. And those Martians!
Sometimes they are ant-l;ke, and other
times worms, and again human freaks! (I
still prefer the silver-green messenger I
saw on the stage twenty years ajo. He
was a gentleman and a scholar and no one
yet has improved upon him.)

And those radio-waves that can vibrate
matter in a straight linel One Jackson
Gee vibrates it in two straight lines.
(Rather funny at that.)

And people disappear into an atom by
taking pellets! They take the pellets into
their system and that shrinks or expands
them. How does the author calculate tliat
in “Beyond The Vanishing Point”? The
pellets must contain cannabis indica (hash-
hish) I guess. Once upon a time I was suf-
fering from an acute attack of colic and
was obliged to use an anti-spasmodic. I
took cannabis, and in tfle delirium that fol-
lowed I shrunk small enough to walk into
a mouse-hole into whieh I had seen a
mouse disappear a few houhs previous. The
mouse was there and looked like an ele-
phant. I awoke in a sweat.

Maybe all your stories won’t be weird
and full of monstrosities. Science is full
of beauty and culture, you know. — Arthur
H. Carrington, Seaside Heights Pharmacy,
Seaside Heights, N. J.

The Effects of Cannabis
Dear Editor:

I have sold magazines, written for mag-
azines, and, now that I have just con-
cluded your April issue, I am editing one
—for myself. Specifically, one story,
“Four Miles Within.” Inside of a radium
mine! Chased by an amoeboid body!
Ooh! . .

Several years ago when I was a clinical
chemist in hospital service, the Roent-
genologist, also a young chap, and a sur-

S ical nurse and myself were so badly
urned with three grains of the substance
enclosed in a lead capsule that we were
crippled for nearly a month. [No fair.
Your experience was with pure radium. It

Where Fantasy Meets
Science Eiction

Jear Editor:

I have purchased many of the issues^ of
pour magazine, and have read everytlyng
n them, Including the letter columns, with
freat interest. I have particularly enjoyed
;ertain stories, such as “The Forgotten
Planet,” “The Jovian Jest” and “The
Planet of Dread, 1 ’ in which genuine imagi-
lative quality was combined with good
vriting. Many other tales, not so well
written, I have enjoyed for their fantasy*
heir suggestive ideas.

In following "The Readers' Corner^ I
lave noted the objection to so-called “un-

132

ASTOUNDING STORIES

S ossible" stories, voiced by Borne of your
leaders. Stories thus classified, one would
infer, are tales dealing with the marvelous
and the mysterious in which the author
has not attempted to give a naturalistic or
scientific explanation of his wonders and
mysteries. In other words, he has not ren-
dered them in terms of the test-tube. He
has admitted the inexplicable, the "super-
natural."

Personally, I enjoy stories of this type,
as well as those that are written with the
purely scientific approach. I suspect that
those who edndemn them are suffering
from a rather amusing— and also pathetic
—sort of unconscious hypocrisy. I think
that people who read your magazine, as
well as Science Fiction magazines in gen-
eral, are people with the ingrained human
love for wonder and mystery; but some of
them are afraid to accept and enjoy any-
thing— even a fairy tale — that is not
couched in the diction of modern materi-
alistic science, with a show of concern for
verified credibilities. Probably, in most
cases, they would like and* prize the very
stories that they condemn if the writer had
used a different terminology, and had of-
fered explanations that were even super-
ficially logical according to known laws.

Please do not think that I am decrying,
or even criticizing, Science Fiction. I con-
sider i#a highly important and significant
branch of present-day writing, and have
hopes of contributing to it myself. I am
merely advocating an open attitude of
mind and imagination. For those who
think that the "impossible" requires justi-
fication — or cannot be justified — I would
suggest that the only impossible thing is
to define and delimit the impossible. In an
infinite, eternal universe, there is nothing
imaginable — or unimaginable which
might not happen, might not be true, some-
where or sometime. Science has discov-
ered, and will continue to discover, an
enormous amount of relative date? but
there will always remain an illimitable
residue of the undiscovered and the un-
known. And thefield for imaginative fic-
tion, both scientific and non-scientific, is,
it seemB to me, wholly inexhaust ible.—
Clark Ashton Smith, Auburn, Cal.

Heroes Too Heroic?

Dear Editor:

I wrote you a letter last month. I'm
writing you a letter this month, and I'll
write you a letter next month. In fact, I'm
going to write you a letter every month
just as soon as I finish the latest iasue of
Astounding Stories, so you might as well
have a special department installed in As-
tounding Stories right away entitled “Let-
ters from the Sap who Thinks He Is So
Smart," or something else equally appro-
priate.

Haveyou ever noticed that 99% of Ed-
mond Hamilton's stories have the same
plot as "Monsters of Mars”? The plot I
mean is this :

A group of men, preferably three, get
into enemy territory. As to the enemy (if
the enemy are not lizards or some other
repulsive form of life), Mr. Hamilton has
them wear repulsive clothes, live in ugly
buildings, etc., to make the reader dialike
them at the start. An old, old idea, and
quite a commonly used one, is to have
these creatures about to declare war and
conquer the hero's country with the
enemy’s super-weapons ; and after captur-
ing our brave, bold, and heroic heroes,
proceed to tell the heroes the way the
weapons work, the zero hour set for at-
tack, and the line of march of the enemy's
armies (as if prisoners are told all these
things I). Our heroes then cleverly escape
and grab an enemy machine. About two
thousand of the enemy close in to the kill,
but (Mr. Hamilton simply loves "huts’ 1 )
our brave heroes glance over the strange
controls of the captured craft and without
hesitation pick out the right levers and
hold the enemy at bay. After annihilating
most of them, and after the zero hour has
come, the heroes prevent the great inva-
sion and return to their native land.

It is interesting to note that the heroes,
though greatly outnumbered and with
strange weapons, always down many of the
enemy while they themselves escape un-
scathed. Also, Mr. Hamilton loves nar-
row escapes, and phrases such as these ap-
pear frequently in his story: “But even as
he raised his deadly ray-tube. I leaped and
knocked it from his hand. They charged,
but I was too quick and dodged as the
foremost hurtled at me."

These incidents are supposed to get the
reader all excited, but after a while they
grow monotonous.

The second story in the April issne,
“The Exile of Time,” promises to be ex-
cellent is every way. It would be interest-
ing if George Raskin, in bis time-travel-
ing, should witness the signing of the
Declaration of Independence or the Bat-
tle of Bunker Hill.

“Four Miles Within" was good also,
save that the heroes’ escape from beiag
marooned and James Quade’s death sav-
ored unpleasantly of Edmond Hamilton.

Sewell Peaslee Wright's adventures of
the Bpace patrol are always fascinating,
and "The Ghost World" is a splendid ex-
ample of this.

On the whole, your magazine is practi-
cally perfect. — Robert Baldwin, 359 Hazel
Ave., Highland Parle, 111.

Likes 'Em to Seem Real

Dear Editor :

I've been reading Astounding Stories
since the November issue, and I mink that,
on the whole, it iB a very good magazine.
It is of a handy size, convenient price, and
O. EL, except that you might cut the edges
of the pagea smoother. Weiao is an excel-
lent artist.

I think your beat authors are Harl Vin-
cent, Say Cummings and Capt. S. P. Meek.

THE READERS' CORNER

133

1 like Capt. Meek’s Dr. Bird stories im-
mensely. Also among your best authors
are Charles W. Diffin and Murray Lein-
ster. And now about the stories them-
selves.

I’ve noticed that quite a few is "The
Readers’ Corner" are all for fiction and no
scientific explanation. I like fiction, too,
but anybody can make up a pretty good
plot about a girl, a lover, and a villain,
and have a wild theory of super-science
for a basis, and then not explain it. What
I like moat is when an Author — who uses
such a theory as, for instance, making mat-
ter invisible by bathing it with a ray, the
color of which is beyond the range of the
spectrum, as in “Terrors Unseen, by Harl
Vincent — backs up his idea with a clear
explanation and makes it plausible and
convincing. It makes bis tale seem more
possible, and hence more real. I like it
much better when the writer doesn’t even
suggest a theory in his plot — to say noth-
ing of trying to prove it — than when he
gives you the invention of a professor in
the year 2431, and lets you imagine how
and why it works.— T. Caldwell, 912 Mo-
reno Road, Santa Barbara, CaL

Covers Too Imaginative?

Dear Editor:

For crying out loud, why can't everyone
be satisfied I One person says “our” mag
is too small, another says it's O. K.; one
wants so-and-so’s work, someone else
doesn’t, etc. Why can't Readers be rea-
sonable? They’ll continually admit A. S.
is the best Science Fiction mag on the
market (with which I thoroughly agree)
and then they'll start complaining. As if
anything can be 100% perfect— though
A S. comes awfully near it I

Then for some of .the complaints. I re-
call but two sensible ones. I have read
every issue of A S. except the first two,
and several times I have been tempted to
write to you about them.

1 — Too imaginative a cover gives the
narrow-minded non-Science Fiction read-
er an idea that "our” mag contains trash.
I refer to such covers as those on the Au-
gust, September, October, 1930, issues, and
tiie March, April, and especially May,
1931, issues. These people's opinions re-
flect rather harshly on us faithful A S.
Readers. Can’t the covers be more like
those on the March, May, June and Tuly,
1930, issues? (All those stories them-
selves, however, were great, as usual.)

2 — Please hold down on "The Readers'
Comer." Isn’t an eight and nine-page sec-
tion a bit too much? A short story haa
been suggested— good idea. Why not limit
it to a maximum of, say, five pages?

I shall not complain of any of the
stories, because I realize that others prob-
ably enjoyed what very few I may not
have. I must, however, say that Ray Cum-
mings’ "Brigands of the Moon" holds first
place, In my opinion. It was great I Please
keep op the excellent workv— Meredith L.

Evons, 4001 Cedar Lane, Drexel Hill, Pa.

" Evenly Divided ”

t few

Dear Editor:

Although I missed the first few issues of
Astounding Stories due to the fact that I
was not aware of its publication, I have
become a regular reader.

In glancing through your "Readers'
Corner ” I became aware of the fact that
most of the letters therein praise Astound-
ing Stories to the skies, and put it far
ahead of any other Science Fiction maga-
zine. I will not go quite so far, as it is my
belief that most magazines of this^ type
are on the same level. In fact, it seems
absurd to me to state otherwise, as the
authors who write for you one month pub-
lish stories in another magazine the next
month. Of course, these authors put out,
once in a while, stories that are much bet-
ter than their usual offering, but, taken
over a fairly long period of time, these
periodic occurrences will be about evenly
divided among various magazines. I have
the conceit to believe that I know what I
am talking about, as my observations are
based on five years of Science Fiction
reading.

Of course, while I believe that there are
other magazines equally as good, Astound-
ing Stories is certainly not inferior to any.
There is always room for a Science Fic-
tion magazine of the same caliber as
Astounding Stories, but unfortunately for
the public, there are too few of them. —
James M. Kennedy, Ithaca, N. Y.

Machine or Beast?

Dear Editor:

Having read about every issue of
Astounding Stories to date, I have decided
that it is the best of the three Science
Fiction magazines that I have read.

The best story that you have published

£ et, in my opinion, is "Brigands of the
loon,” by Ray Cummings. Sewell Peas-
lee Wright and Victor Rousseau are also
very good writers. The only two stories
that I did notttke were "Murder Madness"
and "Earth, tne Marauder." The former
belonged in a detective magazine, and the
latter in the waste basket. It was too far-
fetched for even my imagination.

Now a word about your cover il hist ra-
tions. The first issue that I bought con-
vinced me that your artist was a genius,
but my opinion of him is steadily decreas-
ing. That illustration that I speak of was
a scene from "Brigands of the Moon." It
certainly was good. Lately, I am ashamed
to show the magazine to my friends be-
cause of the gaudily painted and repug-
nant creatures on the cover. A picture of
a machine is much more appropriate than
a beast of some kind. Wesso seems to be
able to draw a picture like that which is
on the March or April, 1930, numbers bet-
ter than those of late.

I would like to communicate with

134

ASTOUNDING STORIES

Science Fiction Headers of about my ace,
which is 15. I will answer any or all let-
ters that are written to me. — William D.
Crocker, Ashfield, Mass.

Expert Opinion

Dear Editor:

May I express my pleaanre and gratifi-
cation in your worthy magazine ? I read
two other Science Fiction publications be-
side yours, but Astounding Stories is by
far their superior, ^specially as there is a
human interest to ydiJr stories that is sad-
ly Lacking in others. They also contain too
much technical detail. Your magarine is
just right. The paper is easy on the eyes
and the type is distinct and doean't blur or
tire the eyes.

The cover illustrations leave nothing to
be desired. The edges, sice, number of
pages, etc., are of no CQpcern to me. I
have read every issue of Astounding
Stories since it was published and can find
no fault with it whatever. If those sore-
heads who howl incessantly about minor
details would only try to get out a paper
of their own they would soon see what a
wonderful work you are doing. The May
1931, issue, which I have just finished, is
really the best collection of Science Fic-
tion stories I've read in many a day, and
I’ve read quite a bit.

I wish you every success in the world—
C. P. Binsford, M. D, 604 Pearl Street,
Huntsville, Ala.

A Satiric ai Drama — Complete,

Dear Editor:

One Act Play of the Future

Time-traveler from the Twentieth Cen-
tury: “So this is the year 24,000 A. D.?“

Sulsu-D-9: “Yea, Visitor from the

Past”

Time-Traveler: “Say, Sulsu-D-0, has
Astounding Stories brought out a Quar-
terly yet? ,T

Sulan-D-9 : “No, Man from the Long
Ago, but it looks like we’H have one with-
in the next five years ("-Forrest J. Ack-
erman, 530 Staples Ave^ San Francisco,
CaL

An Employment Non-Solution

Dear Editor:

Owing to the fact that I have been a
constant Reader of Astounding Stories
since the first day it appeared on the news-
stands; I think that it is about time for
me to drop a few lines to you to show my
appreciation for the many, many good
stories that you have given the Readers of
Science Fiction in the pages of your mag.

I agree very strongly with Mr. Sager of
Bessemer, Ala^ about the paper in the
book. If the stories are interesting, why in
the name of Seven Kinds of Hades should
anyone worry about the kind of paper as
long as the print is readable. Whatia that
old saying about the best articles not be-

ing always in the be* wrapped paroels? I
am here to say that Astounding Stories «i
the beat of its kind

What I have to say now is by no means
a criticism. I am merely asking for ap ex-
planation. I have no regard for those peo-
ple who are continually looking for flaws
ts peck about in various stories.

In the May, 1931, issue my choice of all
the fine stories was “Dark Moon.** That
was a toper -story and I enjoyed it from
start to finish, even the third or fourty
time I read it. If a story is worth readiag
once it is worth reading several tunes, is
my belief. But now comes the question.
Will some other kind Reader endeavor to
explain it to me?

How could the intrepid explorers on the
Dark Moon see the light of Earth and the
other planets if the Hght from the Dark
Moon could not pass the gaseous forma,
tian to Earth, etc.? And now could the
Dark Moon receive the light that it did?
[Mr. Diffin did not explain that ; perhaps
he intends to do so in a sequel. Who
knows? — £d].

One main fault I have to find with
Astounding Btoriea is that it is not pub-
lished twice a month, if not oftener. By
the way, would that not be a plan to help
out unemployment. It would put more
men to work and I am sure that all of os
Readers could scrape up 20c more a month
for this wonderfnl magazine. How about
it? [But this, I think, would increase un-
employment ! — £d.].

I would Hke to near from some of the
Readers in the near future. Best wishes
for the continued prosperity of the maga-
zine.*— Christen G. Davis, 531 South Mil-
lard, Chicago, 111.

Doggoned If He Didn’t!

Dear Editor: *

The stories, being the most importaat
part of the magazine, come first:

“Dark Moon/’ by Charles W. Difim, ii
-the best novelette you have yet published,
and that’s saying a lot for it, isn't it?

Next ceme^The Exile of Time," by
Ray Cummings, another impossible time-
traveling mory, but nevertheless i nter e st-

I ”Vclctnne to Astounding Btoriea, Mr.
Schadhner and Mr. Zagat. Yow story
“The Death Cloud'’ was great. I hape
you 11 favor us with another story very
soon.

And if here isn’t Capt. Meek -with an-
other Dr. Bird story! Captain Meek, if
you atop wr iting than, 111 never read an-
other of your marvelous stories.

The moon turned green, and I’ll be dog-
gone If Hal K. Wells didn't go and write
a nice little story teUIng ns all about It
That was nice of yon, Mr. Wells; I en-
joyed it very, very much.

Bow let’s take a look at the cover. Mr.
Wesso, yon certainly have a marvel om
hasginsrioa. You are an eaoelient cover

artist. It isn't everyone that can ittnstrsti

135

THE READERS 1 CORNER

Science Fiction stories. I do wish that
yon would illustrate Science Fiction
stories only, as that is where you are at
your best. Almost any artist can illustrate
detective story magazines, so don’t waste
your talent on them.

0a I Here we are at the “In the Neat
Issue" page.

Hurrah! Hurrah! Arthur J. Burks is
back again! Can’t you manage to get next
month's issue out a little earlier, Mr.
Bates? R. F. Starzl’s also back again; and
there's to be another story by Charles W.
Biffin. Isn't this a grand old world?

1 will close with this suggestion. Let's
have more illustrations. At least two for
each installment of the serials and two for
each long novelette. Make the extra illus-
trations full page ones. — Jack Darrow,
4225 N. Spaulding Ave., Chicago, 111.

“ — And Amusing*

Dear Editor:

I have just finished the May issue of
A S. and I want to tell you that “Dark
Moon,” by Charles W. Diffin, was fine.
Let's have more stories like that. Your
“The Readers' Comer” sure is interesting
—and amusing. I like to read letter*
from Readers.

A bouquet : A. S. is a really fine maga-
zine. I think it's one of the best of its
kind. Of course, it can be improved — but
what can't? There's no sense in criticizing
a magazine as some Readers do. I think if
the Editor could make his magazine any
better, he would do it without hesitation.
—Charles Strada, 503 Olive Street, Kan-
sas City, Mo.

Cummings and Wagner
Dear Editor;

Astounding Stories is in my estimation
the best magazine on the market. Words
are feeble when an accurate description
of the pleasure that I receive from every
issue of Astounding Stories is needed.
However, I will say that next to my ex-
treme appreciation of classical music, I
rate Astounding Stories as being the best
outlet of my emotions. As in the music of
that great German composer, Richard
Wagner, whom I rate as the greatest of all
composers, so do I find an outlet of my
emotions by reading a novelette by Cum-
mings, Vincent, Leinster and many other
of your excellent Authors.

For example, I shall take the overture
to “The Flying Dutchman.” In the begin-
ning of this overture we hear the opening
caU played by the trombones with the
string section accompanying this principal
motive with wild crescendo. This excites
the brain so that a taste of the supreme
motives is like an appetizer at dinner. So,
taking the novel by Ray Cummings en-
titled “Beyond the Vanishing Point,” we
find that in the opening paragraphs there
is also an “appetizer” to the rest of the
ttory which is to follow.

Now, returning to our "Flying Dutch-
man” overture, we find that after the in-
troduction by the wild calls by the trom-
bones and the Btring accompaniment, we
gradually drift into a somewhat pensive
mood; so in the story, for the next few
pages we find more or less quiet reading.
Gradually, however, this quiet mood in the
music gives way to rolls on the kettle-
drums announcing a grand climax ; finally
the music becomes wilder and wilder until
at last the 6torm breaks and we actually
picture this ghost-ship riding over the
waves in a terrific 6torm. Lightning
flashes, thunder roars, huge waves sweep
over the deck of the ship as we see the
Dutchman at the wheel laughing out his
defiance in diabolical fury.

And so in the story, we are finally led up
to a grand climax which actually grips
anyone with an ounce of red blood in his
veins.

And now I would like to ask the follow-
ing questions:

Is there some Reader of Astounding
Stories who no longer has any use for the
old issues of Astounding Stories and
would be so kind as to send me these?
From the first issue up to the November,
1930, issue and also the December, 1930,
issue are v the magazines that I should like
to have. >

Leave /your magazine as is, only have
one godd long novelette, not two fairly
good ones as in your April issue, which
was not up to the standard set by your
previous magazines. — Walter G. Diehl,
145-38 Eighth Ave., Malba, L. I., N. Y.

This Time-Traveling Traffic

Dear Editor:

Many times during the past months,
while reading your really remarkable mag-
azine, I have come across contradictions
in explanations throughout the stories,
which, while not very serious, tend to give
me the impression that the Authors either
did not care about or did not see through
the errors they committed. I did not com-
plain about them, considering them but
minor mistakes.

But in Ray Cummings* latest current
novel, “The Exile of Time,” there exists
6uch a monstrosity as I believe calls for
an explanation.

Mr. Cummings story, you know, centers
around his time-traveling machine. If
such a thing were possible, would it not be
reasonable to believe that a holder of the
secret of time-traveling could go back into
the paBt and prevent some catastrophe or
tragedy as his historical knowledge of the
event would make possible?

According to this theory then, a person
could go back into the past and divert the
hand of Wilkes Booth on April 15, 1855,
about to assassinate Lincoln.

But this shows its own impossibilities:
that of two contradicting absolute truths
for the world to believe.

Likewise, a person could travel into the

136

ASTOUNDING STORIES

future, learn of bis own death, go back
into hia own time and take measures to
prevent It. In the same^ way, this could
not be. [But Mr. CummmgB explains that
these things are impossible.— Ea,}

I do not mean to be critical, but it would
lend much more interest to the story if the
authors would be a bit more careful.—
Robert W. Conrad, Rush City, Minn.

Tripe ?

Dear Editor:

In the short time yodr map. has been
out, it has already established itself as the
best in the field. I got a real kick out of
most of your stories.

In the May issue, two yarns are out-
standing: Charles W. Diffin's splendid
“Dark Moon” and Nat Schachner and Ar-
thur L. Zagat's especially fine “The Death
Cloud.” These two are as thrilling stories
as I have ever read. Mr. Diffin I’ve read
before and always enjoyed; but Messrs.
Schachner and Zagat are new to me. I am
looking forward to seeing more of their
stuff.

But what has happened to Cummings?
He used to be aces up, but now comes this
tripe of his called “The Exile of Time”;
especially the current installment with its
long-winded rot about mysticism and the-
osophy and the Lord knows what. Where
was the Editor when this blew in? Surely
there are plenty of Swarai sheets for that
truck ; it has no place in Astounding.
Stories.

Give us more of Diffin, Leinster,
Schachner, Zagat and Rousseau, and you’ll
keep us all satisfied.— D. Kay, Standish
Arms, Brooklyn, N. Y.

For Rocket Fans

Dear Editor:

It may interest your Readers to know
that the American Interplanetary Society
has just completed its first year of exist-
ence, and looks forward to a most ener-
getic second year in pursuing its aims.

The Society has practically completed
the first lap of its research on the possi-
bilities ana limitations of the rocket, and
intends to continue this research for an-
other year before publishing a complete
report which shall be the first extensive
survey of the rocket in English.

We plan also to extend the size and
scope of our monthly Bulletin, to make of
it a real magazine that shall publish all the
news, both of America and abroad, dealing

with developments in astronautics and
rocketry. It will also contain the reports
of the Society’s members on the rocket, as
well as interesting general articles on the
various phases of interplanetary travel.

Plans are also maturing for a campaign
of mutual experimentation on the rocket
which we shall be ready to carry out 4 be-
fore the end of this year. The Society h
also completing plans for the formation of
an International Interplanetary Commis-
sion which shall coordinate the work of
the national societies and plan to solve the

£ roblems of astronautics on a world-wide
BBiS.

While the growth of the Society during
the past year was very promising, we hope
to extend during this year the scope and
field of our activities and membership. We
have members now in thirty-six states, in
Canada, Mexico, France and Russia. To
your readers we offer our active and asso-
ciate memberships,, giving to lovers of
Science Fiction a chance to assist in the
bringing to realization the dream of all
Interplanetary travel.

Information about the Society and the
classes of membership can be obtained by
writing to the secretary at the address bo-
low. — -Nathan Schachner, Sec., American
Interplanetary Society, 113 West 42nd St,
New York City.

u The Readers 9 Corned 9

All readers are extended a sin-
cere and cordial invitation to “corns
over in 'The Readers’ Corner”* and
join in our monthly discussion of
stories, authors, scientific principles
and possibilities— everything that’s
of common interest in connection
with our Astounding Stories.

Although from time to time the
Editor may make a comment or so,
this is a department primarily for
Readers , and we want you to make
full use of it. Likes, dislikes, critt
cisms, explanations, roses, brickbats,
suggestions — everything’s welcome
here; so “come over in 'The Readers'
Corner”* and discuss it with all of
us I

The Editor*

ASTOUNDING STORIES

Appear « on Newittandt

THE FIRST THURSDAY IN EACH MONTH

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the lessons in this Strong Man's Library for only gl-Wh

I show you how to add inches on your arm, now to
put steel cables on your cheat, how to get a back of might.
I show you how to develop legs of a giant and a grip of
steel. The strong man tricks which I reveal will amaxe
you and your friends. Molding mighty men Is the basi*
ness of George F. Jowett, The Champion of Champions.

BUSH COUPON— SPECIAL OFFEB

All 6 books are profusely illustrated and will be sent to
you by return mail, postpaid. Just slip a dollar bill in an
envelope with the coupon below. For any single book,
just send a quarter. I will include a free copy of my book
titled, “The Thrill of Being Strong.” Rush coupon now.

JSWm INSTITUTE SF NTSfCAL CULTUKE

ill Ptfiar 9raM, StfL 2VA, SerMtea, Ftau.

Dear Mr. Jowett: Your proposition looks good to me.
Send, by return prepaid mail, the lessons I am checking
below and for which I am enclosing my remittance «4

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cl A’ncricn: Member, Veteran Wireless
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A Radio

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To men who are looking ahead!
by R. L. DUNCAN

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ASTOUNDING STORIES

COWBOY STORIES
T CLUES

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Holder of ths UtUi
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Name

(Fima print or write pi truly)

when answering advertisements

144

ASTOUNDING STORIES

A Personal Message from the Publisher

Friend Reader:

Frankly, I am curious.

I have reason to believe that my magazines have the high
class, the most responsible, the most loyal body of Readers of any group
fiction magazines indie world. I want to find out if this is so. The ini
mation would be very valuable to me, and in order to find out I am going
ask you, as a friend, to give me your help.

I do feel that you are my friends; I like to think of you u d
I like to call you that. By the very nature of the publishing business I,
general, know your tastes and preferences, and am in sympathy with th<
But I would like to know^you in a more personal, more intimate way — to kn
the real you who buy and enjoy my magazines. It is not likely that I an
this in person, so will you do the next best thing, and meet me half way by filfi
out and sending in the questionnaire below?

The information, so far as any individual is concerned,
course will be kept strictly confidential. No one but myself will know anyth
about you personally; only the tabulated information in total form will be sho
to my editors and advertisers.

As an appreciation of your friendship, I will send to every
answering these questions a copy of my famous "Secrets of the Secret Servici
a big, thrilling book of inside stuff about Uncle Sam's secret police, of which «
100,000 copies have been sold throughout the United States — and l will send it tv
free and postpaid.

Don’t delay! Sit down now. A fair swap between friend
and my sincere thanks for your courtesy and loyalty.

Publiil

Name

Address

G‘iy

A gt

Mamed?

Occupation or

Business?

Do you Own a Car?

Do you Own a Radio?

What college, if any, did yon attend?

Of what dubs or societies are you a member?,
What kind of stories do you like best?

Suit

Male or Female, . . .
Head of a Family?. .

Do you Own
Your Own Home?,

What Make?

How many others, besides younelf, read your copy of this magazine?

What other magazines do you read regularly?

Thank you lor thia Information. Rsmambsr It will bo leapt strictly confidential. Kindly
mall thia Information to m# at my offica, 60 Lafayatta Stroat, Naw York City.

W. M. Clayton, PubUahtf.

Bills! Bills!

Bills !

Here's the money to Pay them.

I'll give you

A WONDERFUL OPROHTUN1TV TO MAKE

$ 72 -

a week

Would $72 a week take away your
worry a I milt hills? Would $ 10 . SI If.
S if) a day sum with the way for you.’
Then listen to me. my friend. I have
something of iiii|K>rtanee to say to
you. 1 know of hundreds of ipen and
women who were oner in the same
I Kish Inn you may he in toda v — men
mu of a jolt widows with children to
support — hnm-a . eouselentious people
who needed more money to keep
things going. Did they give up'. 1 Not
<m your life! I’ll tell you what they
did. They aeeepled a wonderful
opportunity to make money — more
tuonev than they ever made In their
lives I Wore - the very same olTer I'm
ready to make to you right now.

Bill* All Paid— And
Money In the Bank

II. T. Lester, of Massachusetts, is
one of them. And this Is what lie
writes me: "My hank Itook shows
that in „\i days I dejmsited SIOO.:i;>
-that Is. orer and abnrr in u lirirw
• r peases. " Think of ll! Hills all paid
and nrrr SlUn clear cash in the hank
in loss than a month. Mrs, Kdgar
Crouthamcl. of Pennsylvania. Js
another. She got SH‘1.72 for one
work. And t lion thero Is <;.
'N. Tuhlis, of California. He was
out of a fob for three months. Hut he
accepted my offer and now often
makes as much as S20 in ono dav.
:\£® , people worrying about
hills. And I could mention hundreds
of others just like them to show you
the amazing possibilities of niv
proposition.

Ton Don** Need
Capital or Experience

I* thorn any reason why vou ran’t do
m well. Let me tell you why l think
you can. I do business in every soo-

the country | need people
everywhere to help me. And I nave a
place for |/”M right now in your very
locality Vou don't have to itivtM
any capital. You don’t need any
sjHsdal training or experience. Mrs.
trank Young. Minnesota, was form-
erly an office worker, making $5t> a
month. Now. she is a widow with
children. Yet. with my pm|M»sl-
sho often maki^s as imieh as $25
in single day. Ilenrv \V. Yeager, of
Minnesota, didn't have any ex-
perience either Hut lie had hills to
pay and needei money. With the
opIMirt unity ] gave him lie made a
profit of $17 one Saturday afternoon.

Korenblit Makes $110
a Week

I’ll tell you. as 1 told them, the few
simple things you need to do. I'll
furnish everything you need to have.
And you’ll f>e your own Itoss -work
when you please. You cnuldn '1
Imagine finer, more delightful work
tlmt pays such hig money for the lime
you devote.

Maylie a few extra dollars a week
would help you. I'll he surprised
if you don't make $25 to SB.-* a week
in spare time. L. It. Solomon.

Pennsylvania, rleared S20 In four
hours. Or. maylic you’d like steady,
v ear-round work, wltli a chance to
nave an Income of $72 a ‘week. Sol
Knrcnhlil. New York, docs l>citer
than that, lie savs he averages $110
a week regularly. Whatever you want ,
here's your op|M»H unity to get it.

Send No Money— Just
Mall Coupon

Let’s stop worrying about hills. Let's
get them paid iiuick. Then, let’s
get money ahead: have the tilings
you need and want, enjoy life. I'm
ready to give you the chance. I'm
ready to make you the very same
olfer that has brought $15 and more
In u day to literally thousands of
people. You don’t need to wait for
anything. You can start making
money right away. I don't care
who you are or where you live. It's
worth your while to find out alioiit
this amazing nITcr. Mall the rau|xm
and I'll give you facts that will open
your eyes. And you don’t obligate
yourself or rhk one penny. You have
everything to gain. So don’t wait.
Mail the coupon —NOW.

ALBERT MILLS, Pnaldcnt

7631 Monmouth Av«., Cincinnati. O.

! ALBERT MILLS, President, I

I 7634 Monmouth Am., Cincinnati, Ohio J

| Yes. I'd like to know all nlmut your plan that oilers mo a chance to pay I

I my hill and make $72 a week— starting at once. This does not obligate *
me In any way. I

I ©A. P. Co.

/Print or Write Plainly t

•Ktra, »»cr»t heating process. Harsh
I r r i t an ts present In aU raw tobaccos

Everyone knows that sunshlaa
mellows —that’s why the "TOASTIND*
process includes the use of the Ultra
Violet Rays. LUOCY STRIKE -made ef
the finest tobaccos —the Cream of the
Crop— THEN— "IT'S TOASTED"— ee

The advice of yottr phjjicinn u: a

of doan, m die open an, bmuii* dap
take fibrin of earth* in (A* m*lbu> in
thine, and hat* a periodic checkup on (
health of yoter body.

It’s toasted

Your Throat Protection—
oflolnst hilt u l lon — oflolnst cough.

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